Changing Priorities
by Leara they said
Summary: Part 1 of series. Sam retired after killing Martouf. But she brought something with her in her womb. 4 years later, the child begins accessing her genetic memory, passed down to her by Lantash, leading to an SG-1 reunion when Sam's secret is out. Not Sa/M
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I started watching Stargate: SG-1 reluctantly when my Sanctuary cravings grew too strong. Once on, I was hooked and just finished the ten seasons (which explains my lack of updating stories like "Frozen", "Albeit Abnormal" and "Crippled". Also, I have my finals. The last written I had yesterday, and in-between finals I wrote this. Guilty as charged! Anyway, I've already started on two more stories in same series. This will be the more family one, but there will be suspense later, I promise you!

I have little experience with toddlers, except for the four-year-old granddaughter of my dad's girlfriend. She's an angel, despite having cut my finger into pieces last Christmas. Normally I don't like children but I guess female instincts kicked in. Also, keep in mind that this is sci-fi (reality sucks!). Let me know if I'm _that _bad.

This story started out as a footnote when I was watching seasons three and four. It was supposed to be romance between Martouf/Lantash and Sam/Jolinar, but I then realized that I'm a JA shipper by heart. I am currently watching Stargate: Atlantis in the hopes that I might continue this series as a cross-over (you'll get it later on). I have this thing planned out, but want to hear suggestions from you, too!

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"**Changing Priorities"**

A _Stargate SG-1_ fan fiction

The sound of light footsteps across wooden floor trying to sneak noiselessly into a far larger bed is familiar to any parent; as she lies still, preparing to act surprised, she cannot help but smile secretly, the innocence not lost on her. She holds her breath like a child on Christmas Day, awaiting to be awoken, sleeping with one eye open. Her fingers curls around the pillow as she tries to be as still as ever. The sun shines slurry in her peripheral vision, blurred by sleep and near-awareness.

Small, eager hands grab the sheets, dragging the ruffles to the edge of the queen-size bed. A creature with a nimbus of light brown curls finally makes its way up, dressed in white PJs with clouds. Moments after, she is disturbed from her feigning of sleep by childish giggles. Wiggling her hips around, she now faces a three-year-old girl whose face is plastered with a grin.

"Good morning," the pretty-faced youngster greets, snuggling into her mother who wastes no time caressing the child's neck fondly.

"'Morning, princess," she replies softly, enjoying these moments before the real world is enforced on them.

The bedroom is beaming with sunlight through the man-sized windows, the wooden floor coated in its glory. Soon the bed is warm, too warm to be considered comfortable, and they both stir. Scooping her daughter into her arms, she laughs and begins to tickle her.

"Mom!" the girl responds, curling up in a ball to avoid the ticklish manner. She squirms, choking on laughter.

"Let's make some breakfast," she suggests, her blonde hair a porcupine like her daughter's. She tries to straighten the girl's curls, but must give up: stubbornly, it refuses to lie down, instead curling uncooperatively. She has always envied her daughter for her curly hair. The cinnamon-colored strands of hair are equally charming along with the light blue eyes. Sam has always thought her daughter looks like a princess from somewhere warm and fuzzy.

The three-year-old jumps out of bed as gracefully as she can muster, the white pajamas wrinkling in the process. Sam follows suit, slower than the energetic child who is already half-way to the kitchen. She can hear scrambling and knows that Ellie is finding her step stool, pushing it across the floor to the kitchen sink; she is well aware that washing her hands before making a meal is important, although Sam cannot remember telling her more than once.

The blonde retired Air Force officer throws a bathrobe over her camisole and cotton pajamas pants, quickly locating the path of her daughter. Yawning, she enters the kitchen, which is already a mess. Ellie is currently fetching a bowl from the upper cupboards, balancing on the slippery kitchen table. Sam is quick to offer support, putting her hands on the child's hips.

"Pan-cake!" Ellie insists, smiling her 1000 watt-smile, a smile that makes Sam go soft in her knees. The one that makes the refusal of parents evaporate.

"Alright," she agrees, placing Ellie on the counter with the bowl in grasp. Then she walks to the refrigerator, returning with the ingredients: milk and eggs. One of the drawers contains the rest, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Ellie pouts when she realizes the absence of her favorite ingredient.

"Ra'p-berry!"

Sam can only be grateful that her daughter isn't addicted to sugar, but instead over-fond of the pink berries – especially in her pancakes. Elara is healthy that way; but overly stubborn when it comes to plain pancakes. She hates syrup, for example. No, she is not like any other child Sam has known.

"You are stubborn, missy," Sam grins, mixing the recipe by heart. Ellie helps by putting roughly the right mount of each ingredient in the blend.

Being as isolated as they are serves a purpose. Her being retired isn't just because she now has a child. Or maybe it is, but not the sole reason. Glancing at her beautiful daughter, Sam cannot help but to weigh the pros and cons.

Elara, as her name is, is more than just her daughter. If the Air Force knew... Sam blinks and looks away; she mustn't think those things. However, it is true that her former employer doesn't know about her interstellar dalliance which gave her Elara. Ultimately it wasn't a forced decision to leave the SGC and the Air Force. It was the only thing, the only option she could see herself taking. After all, Elara isn't a hundred per cent human.

The scary thing is, she knows this better than anyone. She is way smarter than a three-year-old should be, human or otherwise. Sam hasn't dared to perform an IQ test on her, fearing the results. She has never feared Ellie; never. She comprehends things on another level of intelligence, but she is still her daughter. And, Sam has to admit it, has always been slightly prophetic. It sounds insane – and she has no scientific explanation – but it has to be her genetic memory. Embedded in her blood lies the knowledge of a symbiotic life. It makes Sam shiver to think about it, so most of the time she focuses her energy and thought stream on the wonder that is Elara.

"Ellie, be careful," she instructs once they pour the dough into the pan. The raspberries look like dark pink suns in the light dough.

Ellie shies away like she understands the purpose, her fingers curling up impatiently like she is dying to taste the pancakes.

Sam enjoys these moments of pure familiarity. It outweighs anything she has done with the Stargate program. Even though there is five miles to the nearest large town, and a good run for the next-door neighbor. The house is southernmost, hidden by large trees. The frame house is larger than anything she had originally thought she was able to afford, but she had surprised herself. Pine Lake Drive in Colfax, California, has been their home for the past three years, almost four in Sam's case. Her pregnancy hadn't been easy; physiologically, somewhat normal, but during the nine months, only two in the SGC, her abilities from her experience from Jolinar's brief blending were highlighted. She had been able to sense things she normally wouldn't.

Which is one of the reasons their lot on Pine Lake Drive is so isolated. She sought that when she moved here; isolation. While Sam is well aware that Ellie will have attend school (already having skipped daycare and preschool) in a few years, she wants to be sure the child understands the risks of telling people the information her mind holds. The fact that Elara knows things she shouldn't, and Sam doesn't, is her ability to possess the memory of her Goa'uld father. The thought has never calmed Sam; only the small comfort that Lantash isn't Goa'uld, but part of the _Tok'ra_. She has never been sickened to think of Ellie as a hybrid; because she is. Nobody else knows that.

Minutes later, they are eating fresh raspberry pancakes and drinking orange juice. Ellie's tangled hair has been tamed into a horsetail with a scrunchie. The grandfather clock in the living room has revealed that it is little past nine in the morning – something Sam should have known. Ellie never sleeps in, as much as Sam likes to. Energetic is a word to describe her daughter.

The brunette is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen – and it has nothing to do with having given birth to her, although she is biased on the matter. She brings a gleeful element into Sam's life, something she never considered before having children.

"Sam? Ellie?" a male voice calls out, alerting Sam who tenses, but not Ellie who responds by smiling and jumping down from her chair, a half-eaten pancake left on her plate. Sam tightens her hold on the silk bathrobe, making herself decent before following her daughter.

"Andy," she greets when she sees the six-foot-seven man with Ellie launched at him like a tissue paper clinging to the broad-shouldered man. Sam smiles; Andy Kellogg is one of the kindest men she has known and almost an uncle to Ellie. "Wanna have a pancake?"

Andy looks conspiratorially at Ellie. "Raspberries?" he asks to which the girl nods violently.

"Then I'll gladly have one," Andy replies, again facing Sam. Ellie sits familiarly on his hip, clinging to his flannel pattern shirt. His scruffy beard indicates he has been hunting. Ellie grimaces, poking at it. Sam reaches out to stop her, even opens her mouth, but Andy stops her. He is good with Elara, the kind of father figure a three-year-old needs when she starts asking questions about who her father is. Except, in Ellie's case, she knows that her father is Martouf (Lantash, really) of the _Tok'ra. _

Sam looks into Andy's nut-brown eyes and suddenly becomes aware of her state of undress – or, rather, her lack of a bra underneath the camisole. Tightening the robe, she is thankful that he doesn't notice, his attention on Ellie.

In the two years she has known Andy, he has never made a move on her. She doesn't know if he even considers her attractive, but he helps her immensely, and it's wonderful.

Ellie goes off to get a drawing she has made for him, leaving them alone in the kitchen. He sits at the dining table, pancake in mouth, while she leans her lower back against the kitchen table, knuckles white.

"You make the best pancakes, Samantha. Well, you and Ellie," the grand-sized man says. She nearly blushes, but stops herself. She has grown more confident in the past years – and the years before that – and subsequently more feminine. In the Air Force she always had to be fierce and aggressive as a female, proving her worth to the guys, but now she is more gentle, more intuitive. Less stressed. For one, she has grown her hair out. It now reaches the top of where her shoulder blades meet. Of course, now it's untamed, stirred by her nightmares.

"Oh, Andy, you know you're always welcome," Sam says, putting Ellie's plate in the sink. She means what she says: Andy is welcome by both Ellie and herself. While she knows how to defend herself (and suspects Ellie does, by default), she is comfortable having another around. Unfortunately, the ever-smiling huntsman/accountant can't know about Ellie's parentage. He just knows that she is very gifted intelligent-wise. He cares about her; that is all he needs to know, although it pains Sam to lie to such a wonderful man.

In another lifetime, she might have been attracted to Andy. After all, he possesses all the right qualities: he's kind, thoughtful, caring, lovable and will, someday, be a wonderful father because of his love of children. The way he plays with Ellie, his patience.. It's – admirable. However, Sam has seen things he can't even begin to understand. And he deserves better than someone like her, a national security risk single mom.

"They say a storm is coming in town," Andy reveals, sipping the freshly brewed cup of coffee she has provided him with. She knows his preference by heart by now.

"I hadn't heard," Sam responds, thinking about the shut-off television in the living room. While Ellie shares the habit of watching morning cartoons like the rest of children her age, she turns off the television once she decides to surprise her mother in bed.

"Do you need me to fix anything as precautionary?" he asks. She looks down at her toe nails. She walks around barefooted at home.

"I think we're going to be fine. I was planning on taking Elara to my brother's next weekend, so I haven't been watching the weather forecast," she admits sheepishly.

"Andy! Look!" The girl in question shrieks, shoving a drawing in Andy's direction. Sam is familiar with it; it displays a pony and two figures that are meant to be Andy and Ellie. She has talked about the visit for days. Andy took her to a market to buy eggs and groceries, and there were pony rides offered.

While Ellie and Andy fall into chat, she thinks about her current situation. Having escaped the attention of the Air Force, she still fears that something alien will come to grab Ellie and take her away because she was conceived elsewhere. The term earthling has only been a thought of hers since Elara was born. She has a birth certificate, but one that is hidden from the United States Air Force.

A thin layer of dust has gathered on the oakwood dining table. The grained steel door on the refrigerator gives off a sharp reflexion of the light, marred by a drawing on its otherwise perfect surface. She lets her fingertips travel across the rough paper, feeling the grease the crayons has left behind in the creation of a sweet picture: a green field with two figures, one with blonde hair, a smaller dress-wearing girl with brown braids. At first glance, it is childishly gleeful, but at the second glance, it arouses suspicion and complexity rather than simplicity. Despite its colorful motif, over the drawing are letters, spelling words that might normally say 'Mom' or 'Dad' or 'Me', maybe incorrectly, but instead, there is something spelled in an otherworldly language (literally). Only she can recognize it for its flawless Goa'uld.

"Tau'ri," she hears from the table and turns around to see Andy's startled expression morph into amusement. He writes it off as grammatical errors, prone to children Ellie's age. But Sam stiffens, all-too well recognizing the word for earthling. A word she can only have recalled from her genetic memory.

She almost drops the coffee mug she is holding, but manages to feign a hand tremor. She is aware that it is becoming too natural for Elara to use her Tok'ra knowledge.

The laptop lies abandoned on the kitchen counter. It is plugged in to the charger, logged off for the purpose of security. Whereas she has completely retired in most senses of the word, she still handles sensitive material and is sometimes allowed access to national servers. Her doctor degree in astrophysics hasn't changed because of her retirement. She is frequently contacted and hired on independent contract as a freelancing consultant on the Stargate program. It is the best possible outcome even though she feels pangs of guilt hitting whenever she catches a flash of former colleagues when she visits Cheyenne Mountain. Her main contact is a man by the name of Brian Malcolms, a scientist within the division of SGC. She has never worked with him during her time as a stargate traveller and doubts that he even knows how many times she has stepped through the event horizon.

"Ellie, aren't you supposed to be feeding Bree?" Sam reminds her subtly, smiling at Andy as she does so. The lovable Beagle is practically a house resident, having accustomed herself to stay with Ellie and Sam if Andy is out on business or hunting.

Elara lights up, remembering the dog and the promise she made to take care of it (although Sam has helped; while Bree almost never tightens her leash, an abrupt interest in something too far for the leash to take would bring the three-year-old dragged behind the Beagle).

"If you keep sending her away, I might think you want to get me alone, Samantha," Andy jokes, finishing his pancake and raising to put it in the sink.

"True," Sam admits, smiling. "Or to keep you two from conspiring against me."

"Who else would she conspire against? Or with," he points out. "But you're right; she's good with Bree. Ever thought about getting a pet for her?"

"Oh, Andy, be quiet. I would never be able to get the idea out of her head. Besides, with my work..," she trails off, but senses a need for further excusing upon seeing the look on Andy's reproachful face. "It wouldn't be fair. I bring her to Mark's all the time, and I couldn't expect him to take a dog in, too, just because I was required elsewhere."

Andy shivers deliberately. "'Required elsewhere'. That sounds so cloak and dagger. Oh, wait. Carter – Sam Carter," he says, feigning a British accent. Sam snorts in laughter.

"If only. Numbers, Andy, it's merely calculations," she lies, sticking to half-truths.

"Well, miss genius, have they ever heard of a calculator. Little thing, small, very practical, nearly invincible," he teases.

"Oh Gosh, I hope not," Sam responds, playing along.

After a moment passes, she hears Andy sighing. "You know, I could let you in on a secret.."

"Oh, _really_, and what's that?" Sam asks, doing the dishes. The soap water is hot to the touch, but quickly becomes lukewarm, so she keeps going; she has worked under worse circumstances.

"What your brilliant daughter is planning.." After one look, he surrenders. Whispering, he lets her know, "She is plotting the best way to con you into buying her a pony for her upcoming birthday."

Sam rises a brow, unsurprised. "Upcoming? It's in two months' time, Andy. And you are to blame for putting the pony idea into her head."

"Me?" Andy feigns shock. "Never!" he responds devilishly.

A wagging tail disturbs them, followed by quick child steps. "Done, Mom!"

"Have you made your bed?" she inquires. When she is rewarded with a proud nod, she smiles. "Then you may take Andy and Bree for a walk. But remember to go change, missy!"

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

After they have said their temporary goodbyes, Sam is left to clear the table. She glances at the laptop, knowing that a report is due by Monday. Tuesdays are the weekly meeting with SGC scientists, surveyed by Brian Malcolms himself. She sighs mentally, reminding herself instantly that he is better than Rodney McKay; a tiny bit. She supposes her air of authority – at least with the scientists on base – has been rendered useless since she quitted the Air Force.

Noticing a drawing next to the tempting laptop, she leans closer to study it. It's not Ellie's usual style, if she has one. She uses soft colors, pastels, and uses all utensils she sees fit to create a better perception. Sam has caught her drawing deserts and otherworldly landscapes more than once; soft, like through a looking glass, the picture presents itself, then takes the viewer deeper into the fascination of details. Others would suppose Ellie as a prodigy, a young artist to be hallowed and awed. Sam hides the best of the drawings in a binder, afraid of exactly that sort of attention.

This drawing is eerie; it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand out. Hues of black and gruesome red mixed in, striking her first as Netu, the hell moon of Delmak. She is surprised she still remembers, but then again, how would she be able to forget? It was one of her more challenging missions as a member of SG-1. Only, at the bottom of it is a stargate address. Netu does not have a stargate, Sam knows that. She doesn't recognize it, the combination of the six chevrons and the point of origin.

Reading below the drawing, before the stargate address, is, in fluent Goa'uld dialect, the name of a meeting place, stating its function as a Tok'ra stronghold and research facility.

She sighs, massaging the bridge of her nose. The drawing is eerily accurate, the black and gray mixed in with reds. It frightens her that her daughter could have drawn such a thing without being scared out of her mind. Ellie would have come to her, had she been scared. Therefore, she mustn't have been, which, frankly, scares Sam as a mother. More than anything she wishes that Elara never had access to that kind of information; that she could just cuddle her daughter and pretend everything was normal, okay. But it isn't.

She remembers the first time she discovered Ellie's prophetic abilities.

"_Ellie?" she called out, putting the briefcase on the coffee table, keys next to it. She was returning from a long day of work elsewhere._

"_Yeah?"_

_Tracing the sound from the parlor, she quickly found the shape of her three-year-old daughter, the cause to her retirement, sitting with her legs swinging, pen in hand, paper tucked between her elbows, drawing intensely. _

_Sam leaned down over her, caressing the back of her neck as she did so, placing a kiss on Elara's forehead. "Good afternoon."_

"_Good afternoon," she replied in return, her eyes never leaving the paper although her voice changed from distant to happy. _

"_What are you drawing, sweetie?"_

_Her daughter looked up, the blue eyes so wisely staring at her, an expression too mature for a three-year-old to make, as her lips formed the word. "Destruction."_

And now she will have to expose her daughter, relaying the message of the drawing to the SGC; fore while she is retired, the righteousness within her makes her wish to warn the SGC of what the Tok'ra has kept hidden.

Sam has always been in a tough place when it comes to her brother. While she loves Mark with all her heart, he didn't approve of her joining the Air Force and following their father's footsteps. Although they have since reconciled, their father, too, it has been hard to become brother and sister again. After all, Mark is married with children. So when Sam came to him three and a half year ago, pregnant without a partner, the situation was more than peculiar and awkward. After a month of intense prying by Mark and his wife, Julie, they decided to stop bugging her about who the father was, besides that he "wasn't going to be a part of this".

Since she gave birth to Elara, their relationship has improved immensely. Perhaps it has something to do with resigning from the Air Force, but Mark is the first place she goes for help. She cannot count the times Ellie has been babysat by Mark and his family. He has also reluctantly agreed not to tell their father about Ellie's existence, although it required fierce persuasion and a promise from her that it wasn't out of shame.

A single call to Mark solves the situation about where Ellie will go when she travels to Stargate Command via McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. Lisa and David are already looking forward to their cousin's visit, if Julie is to be trusted. And she is.

Sam keeps a bag packed at all times in her bedroom closet. It has all the things she needs, papers, clothes, makeup and essentials. She quickly dresses in something more, say, decent, which means a bra, jeans, a white t-shirt, socks, and sneakers. She styles her hair and puts on fairly little makeup in less than two minutes, leaving plenty of time for her to e-mail Malcolms of her recent discovery. However, as she tries to write it down, she realizes that he will not understand. Therefore, she decides to e-mail General Hammond, using the excuse that is the memories Jolinar the symbiote left in her subconscious mind. It is possible; that memories of the Tok'ra would resurface with time.

Sam groans aloud, formulating the e-mail so that it sounds half as crazy as now. She knows that she will not have the opportunity to go off-world herself; nor does she wish to, with risking not to return to Ellie, but it bugs her to be forced to explain it so that SGC personnel will understand.

Elara and Andy returns, Bree in tow, minutes later. Sam adds a collared shirt to the t-shirt and keeps her smile plastered on, having checked the flight scheduled for Nevada departing from San Diego. Mark lives three hours away, so she will have to pack an overnight bag for her daughter.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

The house is lovely with its white picket fence and the baby blue paint job. The lawn is mowed and every neighbor she has ever encountered there has been polite and the impersonation of loveliness. A suburban neighborhood with everything a near-perfect society offers, educationally and intellectually. The playground is new, the traffic rules clear, and Sam doubts there has ever been a neighbor feud in the time the neighborhood has existed. It seems like one of those perfections you see on television; everyone is smiling, laughing and inviting each other for barbeques. Ellie loves it here, although she was tentative at first glance. Sam was intimidated, too, but her daughter quickly overcame the wariness once she got to know David and Lisa, Mark's children.

Now, as she pulls over to the curb, shutting off the engine by taking the key out of the ignition of the car, she feels a little sad over the fact that she is dropping her child off like some bad, careless mother. She has to convince herself that she is doing this for Ellie, too, and that her daughter knows she has two homes, one is just her home away from home at Uncle Mark's.

"Ready, Ellie?" she says over her shoulder, grabbing the overnight bag with pink ponies on it. It is lightweight, packed loosely with the necessities, but she insists on carrying it for her, knowing that with Ellie's easily distracted mind (when it concerns the Carter-Samuels residence and its residents), the bag will not move from the lawn on its own accord once Ellie is otherwise preoccupied.

"Yes," the toddler replies, beginning to unlock the child seat belt once the car has come to an halt.

Julie comes out with the children, David especially whom Ellie has taken a fondness to. They are not the same age, him being six and Lisa eight, but he accepts the wonder that is Ellie as a challenge.

"Julie," Sam greets fondly as the children do their own hellos. The brunette smiles back at her sister-in-law, pocketing her hands. She is wearing a striped t-shirt with collar and worn jeans. Even then she manages to look so full of life and free-spirited (despite being a lawyer).

"Sam, good to see you," Julie responds, hugging the blonde whole-heartedly. "Mark is inside helping Lisa with her Math homework. I hope you don't mind."  
Sam blushes mildly, awkward, feeling slightly bad. "Am I interrupting terribly?"

"As if you ever, Sam. I've told you, Ellie is welcome to stay here, anytime. She is hardly any trouble. Sometimes she behaves better than Davy and Liz," Julie jokes, smiling incredibly. Her dimples show, making her green eyes narrow horizontally and unintentionally. She really does possess that midwestern charm that has worked its magic on Mark; Sam envies him that sometimes. As far as domestic partners go, Julie must be Wonder Woman herself.

"I don't know about that," Sam discredits, laughing. "Maybe she just behaves better here than at home."

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" she questions rhetorically, motioning to the brown bulb of curls that is Ellie. "She's an angel from the above."

They walk inside slowly, trailing the path of the children. Sam has thrown the duffel bag across her shoulder, balancing it masterfully on her wrist. She is uncomfortable with the similarities to the truth; yes, Ellie did indeed come from the above. Swallowing, she engages in normal, casual conversation.

"I'm just glad you were able to babysit her on such short notice. I hate to just drop by and drop everything on her, but this could be important.."

Julie looks at her understandably. "It's gonna be fine, Sam. You should see David with Ellie; he's playing the role of a big brother. Something I am sure you know everything about being on the receiving end of," she points out.

Sam laughs. "Well, yeah, but I guess the annoying part hasn't kicked in yet. Trust me, it was there between Mark and I."

"I don't see how anyone could find you annoying," Julie responds. "But, I am sure Mark will convince me otherwise," she adds devilishly. "As adorable as your gene pool may be."

As it turns out, the Math is simple once Lisa dismisses Mark over Sam. Sam has never thought explaining subtraction and multiplication to an eight-year-old would be so easy (since she has had trouble explaining far more complex things to far smarter people in the past) and feels an equal success in accomplishing the task of teaching Lisa. Mark stands smirking once she is done, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sammy, Sammy," he says amiably. "You're always here when needed."

"Oh, you would have gotten the hang of it in time," Sam teases back, enjoying a round of sibling banter.

"Not everyone has a degree in astrophysics, but I manage on a daily basis, sis, and I did so before you came along," he argues to no end.

"Of course," she replies softly, smiling genuinely, shrugging the pony duffel bag off her shoulder. "The infamous overnight bag. Everything should be there."

"Amazing. Well, we'll call you if anything goes awry. Which it won't, Sam, so please go off doing..?" Mark trails off, looking at her questioningly.

"... deep space telemetry," she supplies. "On a consultant basis. It's what they make you do when you quit," Sam says, jokingly.

"Hail the Air Force," Mark bits sarcastically but grins at her rolling eyes.

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**Reviews? You like. I promise it'll only get more exciting from now on! I am posting longer chapters in the hopes of quicker completion.**

**What do you like, whatcha don't?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Yeah, I admit, some of what I wrote in last chapter aren't true. Like Colfax being three hours from San Diego. I researched it, and it's actually a 9-hour drive, but by then I had already altered the address twice, so it stuck. Minor details. Also, I played a little around with time and timing so it fitted better with Ellie's age and the resignation.

And of course I altered the events of Stargate slightly. You'll just have to imagine the missions without Carter and ending up the same. I don't know how I will coin that yet.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of this story, not its characters or anything related to Stargate: SG-1 or the universe.

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**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

While her theories may be better equipped at Area 51, it had been a place she had refused to work, mainly because of its inadequate location to her home. She works as a liaison officer although she is too biased to the Air Force, so her retirement is a way of offering guidance where such is needed with her extensive knowledge of the Stargate, stargate travel and Goa'uld-related missions. She can never be seen as a civilian again if her previous encounters of the off-world kind are taken into consideration. So, most of the time she spends at home, some of it at the Cheyenne Mountain base, and some of it at Area 51's research and development facility.

"Major Carter," the airman addresses as he opens the door to the car which is definitely registered to the Air Force, if at all. He is young, she notes, his hair bleached by the sun, but also seems to be awed by her presence. Sam remembers being his age, eager to make her way.

"It's Doctor now, Airman," she corrects him, smiling casually although the smile doesn't reach her eyes. Her mind is elsewhere, other than entering the nondescript car with tinted windows that will bring her to the destination of Cheyenne Mountain.

"Apologies, Doctor," he replies without showing that falter of doubt. He closes the door behind her, and she is enveloped in the smooth and cool darkness of the interior of the car.

She has barely had the oversight to choose her words or way to present the complex idea of her having another flashback to Jolinar's memories. It is sensitive information concerning an ally of theirs, the Tok'ra.

While she hasn't kept in touch with her former colleagues and is only roughly aware of the threats out there, she knows that the Tok'ra are still Earth's allies, making it important for her to pass on information about host genetic experimentation. Her mind flashes back to Nirrti and her experimentations on a peaceful population, now extinct, in her efforts to create a hok'tar, a superhuman to host. Cassandra Fraiser is an ever-reminder of that, and although she has adapted well into Earth society, Sam wonders how affected she is. The Stargate Program deserves to know if their allies are doing the same.

Personally she is troubled by the fact. It has been some time since she dealt with the Tok'ra, having banned her father from Ellie's life (he does not know) and only seen him at neutral locations. She is not ashamed of having had Ellie. She is a wonder of life herself. It concerns the parentage of the gleeful girl who wanders into lives like a beaming sun. Due to her father's blending with the symbiote Selmak, he now possesses the memories of knowing Lantash and Martouf, entities of another. For a short period of time, Sam was Martouf's – and by extension, Lantash's – lover; because of the emotional bond she felt between her and Martouf due to her short blending with Jolinar. A transfer of emotions seems like something out of novels, but it is true. At the time, she couldn't keep their feelings separate. A night spent in the arms of Martouf changed everything. She fell pregnant with Ellie; panicky, she told Martouf and, hours later, was forced to kill him with two shots of a zat. The pain is still raw from the realization that one with whom she felt such deep connection is dead by her hand.

Tears spring to her eyes as a reminder. She dries them away, forcing herself to be strong. She has Ellie, who is some part of Martouf. She never loved Martouf. She _felt _love for him, an ultimate limitless love that transcended everything she had know, and she had cared for him deeply – there had even been sparks between them – but now soundly stripped of most tendencies of Jolinar, she can say that it was a mistake to sleep with him. It was doomed from the beginning. Does she regret it? No is her answer when she thinks about Ellie, when she thinks about everything she's had to sacrifice to protect the hybrid child. She is the best of her, she is the best of Martouf, and by extension, the best of Jolinar and Lantash. What more could she have asked for?

Although not a lovechild, what Sam feels for Ellie is the closest thing she has come to feeling what Jolinar felt for Lantash: utter devotion, love transcending physical intimacy. Any parent will proclaim love for a child limitless. Now sharing the experience, Sam can only agree.

Ellie is her largest reason to live. Nothing is more important. And her biggest fear is that somebody will take her from Sam and leave her destroyed emotionally. While Ellie shares her father's knowledge, she will know nothing of the cruelties of the world.., galaxy. Not if Sam can prevent it.

She has chosen her clothes carefully but in a matter of moments. She is not Air Force personnel and therefore not required to wear uniform of fatigues, but it still feels odd stepping into the elevator in civilian clothes. Low-heeled shoes, slacks and a dress shirt make the outfit she is to present the idea in. Sam has never been one for dresses or skirts; that part of her Air Force ceremonial uniform always bothered her as a strict reminder of gender inequality. At least when she was off-world the BDUs were the same no matter gender.

Hair into a clip, minimal makeup on, she still feels out of place. Even though it has been four years since she was on missions, the rush of excitement still cannot be prevented each time she sees the Stargate. Because of her colleagues not knowing about Elara, she has been offered numerous chances to rejoin the program, each time half-heartedly declined. It had been torturous to lie into Janet Fraiser's face when she insisted that she would not be a part of an SG team and did not wish to. Her friend worries, even though their meetings are brief and minimal. Each time it pains Sam to keep the truth from one she once considered her best friend.

The car pulls to a halt and the young airman opens the door. She smiles politely at him, both honored and ridiculed to have a military escort but it is procedure. A complaint will not alter what she has to do. She steps out and solemnly follows him through the all-too-familiar standard searches. Once done, they enter the elevator that will take them levels down underground to a world only few of Earth's inhabitants know about. She swallows and closes her eyes nervously and slips into the confident scientist she needs to be.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

"Samantha," General Hammond greets warmly. It is no secret that he knows her father personally and had been like an extra uncle for her as a child. During her active service at the SGC that connection had been carefully severed, but now he can treat her more gently without being reprimanded for it.

"General," she replies, smiling heartily. Whenever she is at Cheyenne Mountain, she makes sure to say hi to him, which she can only say is one of the few members of the SGC she can face without feeling guilty. Even Janet makes her feel like she is keeping secrets.

"Malcolms let me know that you had something to tell me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam admits, scratching the white crescents of her nails nervously. She is sitting alone in the conference room opposite the general, recalling mission debriefings.

Hammond looks at her questioningly. "What was it, Sam? Your message suggested it was urgent."

"Not as much urgent as worrisome, General. It concerns a memory of Jolinar of Malkshur," she says hesitantly, thinking of how much she will get reprimanded for this if it is discovered that she covered for her own flesh and blood and lied to the officer in charge. At least she can no longer get court-martialed.

"The Goa'uld who infected you?" he asks with furrowed brows.

"The Tok'ra," she corrects, but nods anyway. "A resurfaced memory of sorts. We suspected this would happen eventually, but it was never discussed as a part of my retirement."

"Yet you did find it important enough to inform us, Carter, and for that we are grateful, but what does this memory concern? Intel will be outdated and cannot possibly be of use. After all, how many years have passed since Jolinar infested you?" he asks.

Sam doesn't even have to think. "Nearly six years, sir."

"However, you know this, so I suspect this is a more.. delicate matter concerning the Tok'ra," the general says, choosing his words carefully and politely. She nods, feeling ill and treacherous.

"You are right. It is an address to a research facility," Sam explains, sliding a paper across the paper with a replica stargate address on it from Ellie's drawing. She had felt silly copying her daughter's drawing, but now it seems all too real.

"As allies we are aware of their developmental stages that we are uninformed of due to privacy," Hammond replies, yet studies the seven chevrons, the seventh being the earth point of origin. Sam had been surprised to see it on the drawing. Its memory is passed on from Lantash, but only Ellie with her combined knowledge would now to draw the earth symbol. Not that Sam has ever voiced her job at Stagate Command to the girl; she intuitively knew.

"It's not entirely theoretical. There are human subjects. It is a facility much like the one Nirrti had with trials on Cassandra's people," she reveals.

Hammond seems uneasy by this news and she senses that there is something he is not telling them. Solemnly, he rises from his chair and walks to the window.

"What is it?" she asks, empowered by civility. She knows she holds no clearance to be directly involved with the SGC's active missions or SG-1 or any other team, but when he reacts like this, she feels inclined to ask.

"Last year we discovered Nirrti experimenting on a primitive population. She was altering their DNA as far as I recall. SG teams one and four – the Russian team – were exposed to DNA re-sequenzing. I believe your are aware of the machine?"

"I am, but I had no idea SG-1 –," Sam says, startled. "It was never brought back, so it was pure theorizing."

"I know, but Nirrti was killed. Her intentions were to create hok'tars. Do you believe that is the Tok'ra's as well?" he questions seriously. She recognizes the flicker in his eyes, the plea for her to be wrong.

"I saw it myself, general," comes out of her before she has even thought about it. Realizing her mistake, she adds, "I could be wrong. Years have passed since Jolinar received the information, but she was not totally dismayed with the idea," Sam fibs, imaging that a Tok'ra symbiote who would forcibly take a host (like Jolinar had done albeit with regret) would tolerate human experimentation more than someone like, say, Lantash.

"The Tok'ra have expressed their ideology about true symbiosis before," he insists. "However, they have also been willing to sacrifice hosts in the past," he adds with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. Sam is certain he is referring to Martouf. "Off the record, I doubt they value human life above or equal to themselves, despite their noble ways of symbiosis."

Sam hesitates. "I wouldn't know what to say, general. All I do know is that if they haven't revealed their facility, they might not think we'd react well."

He nods solemnly. "I understand. At first possibility I will have a team sent through. If they come up with anything, we will need to bring this up at the next Tok'ra Council meeting." Hammond pauses. "Have you spoken with your father?"

"No, not since last time we were both here. In May, I believe," she says quizzically, rising from her seated position, almost relieved.

"Oh," Hammond notes, then changes the subject. "I suppose you will head to see Dr. Lee? I hear you are having some issues with naquadriah experiments?"

It takes Sam a couple of moments to realize what he is referring to. Then she nods hastily, a distanced expression on her face. She remembers Ellie and the drawing. The fearsome creation, the impending horror. The feeling of dread clinging to her when she saw it. She cannot imagine what Lantash and Martouf must have felt.

When she rides the elevator to one of the thirty-some levels, she feels a chill pass through her. Briefly, she wonders where her former team members are. On mission somewhere exotic through the stargate? Shrugging, she enters her office and working station, seeing an abandoned cup of coffee donned by presumably Dr. Lee. Bill is always leaving his coffee everywhere. That has not changed although their working on joined projects have lessened in the few years. For the first year since she retired, she didn't return to the Cheyenne Mountain base, working at several algorithmic projects for companies who would hire her. With everything in her last years a national security risk, she could only present a limited resumé with honorable praise from the Air Force. She had to present herself dumber than she was – something she hated. It reminded her of the Asgards and their superior attitudes. Now she is back at the SGC, civilian scientist on a secret project.

She feels out of place without her fatigues, dodging her way through men she has served with. She logs unto the base computer and starts her configurations, expecting Bill to return soon. Also, she recovers from the impact of lying to George Hammond.

"Dr. Lee, can I – Oh, Sam!" Daniel says, appearing in the doorway. Their eyes meet as Sam spins around to the obvious surprise of her former friend. They have not spoken in years, and only now does it occur to Sam that there is no reason for banning him from her life. He is genuine and has always been a friend first and foremost.

"Daniel," she replies, smiling hesitantly. Her fingers leave the keys, retreating from the laptop.

"Sam!" he repeats as if finally realizing she is there and not a hologram. Swiftly, he steps forward and hugs her lightly. Stiffly, she responds a second too late, which he doesn't seem to notice.

Then he steps back, adjusting his glasses in a pure Daniel-like gesture. "I didn't realize you were here today!"

"Well, it was sorta last moment.."

"This is great! I mean, we never get to hang out like before," he insists. He is dressed in fatigues, probably returned from some mission or here on his downtime to study an interesting artifact.

She doesn't want to admit or point out that it is likely due to her retirement, or the fact she has moved, or their missions. It seems inappropriate even though it is the truth.

"I agree. Why are you here?" Her eyes gleam bluely in the lighting, her civilian clothes all too prominent. She has always considered Daniel a close friend, yet she knows almost nothing of his ventures these past few years.

"Uh, medical check-up with Janet," he awkwardly and distractedly admits.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asks, quick to pick up the habits of a mother. Her brows knit worriedly.

"No," he remarks high-pitched. "Just post-Ascension medical procedure. Or I guess it's not really normal procedure given it's the first time someone ever Descended."

Sam remembers reading a rapport about Ascension. It was even a subject of consideration before she retired. Why has she not been informed that Daniel ascended? Which meant, Sam realizes, he had died.

"I didn't know," she confesses. "I am not kept in the loop these days."

"Oh," Daniel says. "Well, there's not much to say. I don't remember much. Too bad," he adds, smiling.

"Too bad," Sam replies weakly. That guilty feeling is returning. "I won't keep you from Janet too long."

"Right," he replies, getting off. "If you're not doing anything tonight, we could go out for drinks.."

"Yeah."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

SG-1 returns, sans their archeological member, through the Stargate peacefully after a successful negotiation. Jack O'Neill looks sullen, groans about the lack of activity while Teal'c retreats as ordered, an unreadable expression on his face. A rare opportunity it is to see both part-time members together, Jonas Quinn, who is becoming more absent on Earth and more involved in the difficult politics of his home world, Kelowna. Captain Ryan Sherwood is the last to come out of the event horizon, his eyes trained on this C.O. the whole time.

General Hammond looks at his flagship unit with admiration. Their failures and successes aside, they still manage to continue strongly, even under the critic of the International Oversight Advisory. Dr. Jackson has only recently been well enough to return to his original position and the General knows he has been missed and his return goldenly anticipated. Hammond knows that Quinn will soon be unavailable for missions once he returns fully to Kelowna, and then Captain Sherwood will be on duty and a full member of SG-1.

Sherwood is one of countless temporary team members the flagship unit has broken in (many of whom were discarded and found inadequate to the explosive encounters, O'Neill's leadership methods, or else). He holds the rank of captain, much like Carter did when she joined the team back in 1997. Hammond still remembers her fiery attitude and the thin line she walked while obeying orders. Particularly a comment about reproductive organs being tied to productivity in the job she would hold. Hammond still smiles at that, feeling sorry for the young captain. He has big shoes to fill.

It seems strange that four years have passed since Sam Carter retired. The true cause has never been clear to him, since SG-1 functioned better than most teams despite what they endured. Through tempting job offers and positions Hammond is not sure he would have been able to reject, Carter has kept her feelings clear. She does not wish to rejoin the program actively. It is too bad, because she made a fine officer, one of the few who O'Neill accepted, it turned out, when they should reappoint a fourth member of the unit.

With Teal'c being an alien and Jackson a civilian, it was made clear that it was to be someone military and with experience. Nobody able to fit in were available from other teams, so Hammond brought in the up-and-coming captain. He isn't a trained fighter pilot like Jack, but follows orders to the letter and when he doesn't, he is, as Jack puts it, "damn intuitive" which is the best thing the colonel has said of any 'recruit' Hammond has sent his way. Not as smart as Carter, he is her military equivalent. He is trained in reconnaissance, surveillance and combat amongst other things. If only he had half the experience of the other members of SG-1, Hammond would not doubt the newest member. So far he has lived up to the expectations given to him. His experiences with SG-1 have, till now, not made him spooked, which counts as a good thing in Hammond's book.

He prepares for the debriefing, knowing what to expect. What occupies his mind is this new information Sam handed him. That the Tok'ra may be experimenting on humans? He also knows that she does not speak lightly, so she has considered the repercussions of her act. It certainly explains how pallid she looked when he entered the room!

Thought intermingling, he wonders how SG-1 will react if given the information. Then he discards the idea, knowing that they are in for some downtime. Quinn requested to be sent to Kelowna once this mission was over, and he keeps his promise to the intelligent man that plays the part of a half Sam Carter. But often, as the saying goes, does two halves not make a whole.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

"Carter?" Jack says in disbelief once he recognizes her. "Whatcha doin' here?"

At least he does not react like Daniel by pulling her into a friendly albeit awkward hug. There is a note of disdain in his voice which she understands. She, too, would feel betrayed if he had quitted in her place those years ago.

Her glance lands on the general, who is closing the door after Daniel. Teal'c and an unknown man have already sat down. Sam is feeling horrendous.

"As you know, Jonas had to go to Kelowna this afternoon. I'm certain that his skills are not needed, so do not fear," the general explains, pulling his own chair out before sitting. Intense and awkward glances are exchanged.

"Sam has had another memory of Jolinar resurface. She saw a stargate address leading to a hok'tar experimental facility." He paused.

Instead of resorting to playing with her fingers in her lap (a habit her daughter has inherited when she is nervous), Sam glances at the only person she can stand to face, the fatigued man she has not seen before. Is he a part of SG-1? She shouldn't be surprised, of course they would replace her. He is limber and muscled but not in the way of Teal'c or Jack. He is more lean, flexible and tanned without being overly so. He has olive green eyes and a long nose that looks like it has been broken a few times. His cupid's bow casts a small shadow on his full lips, a feature rarely seen in men. In no way does he look feminine, but he has an almost Daniel-like absentmindedness over him. He looks squeamish about the attention he is receiving, then reverts back to a military man. He is a captain, she notes, his dark brown hair cut short. He looks thirty-ish, but she cannot tell for sure. His uniform says R. Sherwood.

"Unusual," Daniel mutters under his breath, then starts aloud, his eyes on Sam. "You had Janet do a check-up?" When gazes are received, he defensively claims: "Just to be sure. Last time a memory resurfaced, you felt ill. Just to verify this wasn't.."

Hammond cuts in. "I had a M.A.L.P. sent to the address. There are no indications of a stronghold, but it could just mean the Tok'ra has concealed their facility."  
"Wait, the snakeheads experimented in your vision?" Jack loudly asks, eyeing Sam. She nods carefully, startled by his quick change in mood.

"It is possible that the Tok'ra has hidden this sort of information in light of our hostile approach to their way of living," Teal'c replies dryly, his expression solemn. "I do believe it would be advisable to send a team through to verify if they indeed are creating hok'tars."

"Nothing suggests this," Daniel points out, ever the diplomat. Sam can see it from his point of view all too easily. Sherwood has said nothing yet, but looks like he is diverging a plan, processing the information. Or maybe he hasn't had the intimate dealings with the Tok'ra yet. He looks almost rookie-like. Then it strikes Sam: he is awaiting orders.

"Unfortunately, the Tok'ra are the only who could verify whether the memory was true. You are certain you saw what you saw?" Hammond asks her directly.

Sam thinks about the humans suffering in the drawing and nods. She had contemplated asking Ellie what she had thought about when she drew that picture, but her daughter has a tendency of drawing what pops to mind, never questioning it when she accesses her genetic memory. To her it would be a shock.

"Alright. I will send SG-1 through tomorrow, Colonel. Given your arrival back to the SGC," Hammond orders, eyeing the colonel. "Dismissed."

For the first time in years, Sam finds herself rising from the wooden conference table and leaving with SG-1. Of course she is no longer a vital part, having retired as far as the Air Force is concerned. Sighing, she comes to the same conclusion many parents have come: it is all worth it, doing that for her daughter's sake. No doubt that if her condition would have been "public" in the SGC, she would have been subjected to tests and experiments. Not to mention the judgments people would pass on her by getting pregnant with a Tok'ra.

Teal'c halts lightly in the corridor, hesitating before speaking. "Samantha Carter, your presence have been solely missed."

Sam opens her mouth to reply but then he is gone down the corridor, presumably to his quarters. Stunned, she is left with a quizzical expression. The colonel is nowhere to be seen, and Daniels sends a a pitiful glance before walking off to the locker rooms. Never before has she felt so alienated. Despite these being the corridors she walks at least twice a month, there is something different about being a military member and a Major Carter and then being a civilian consultant and a retired major of the Air Force. She feels like she has disappointed them somehow. They evidently avoid her like the plague despite Daniel and Teal'c's attempts to be friendly. The colonel did not even look at her, only in disbelief and with a hidden resentment. She knew that she would not be accepted into the fold lightly, but this?

She retires to her station, prepping the next test on the naquadriah simulator. Sullenly, she begins to do the calculations, wondering absentmindedly what they think of her now where she has returned to their lives.

**x STARGATE SG-1** **x**

When the alarm rings out, Jack's mind is elsewhere. The surprise of seeing his ex-second in command left a physical impact.

He didn't know how to respond back then when she came to him and said she had resigned. At first he had mistaken it as reassignment elsewhere (after all, perhaps the missions were taken their tolls on her, like they did him sometimes), but when she had said that she was quitting the Air Force and that she told him because he deserved to know. He had looked like a question mark, not understanding and leaving abruptly after harshly lashing out. He hasn't seen her since.

And now she comes here, looking, well, _civilian_, dressed in a very feminine outfit that outlines her curvy frame. And even though he still thinks of her as Major Carter, she just proved that she isn't. She hasn't been on missions the past four years and hasn't been involved with the Stargate.

And yet Daniel seemed very unsurprised when they had walked into the conference room with her in the chair, General Hammond in another, thinking it was a normal debriefing. Carter has been a taboo on their team, only mentioned briefly and respectfully to new team members who asked. Sherwood rose a brow when he got the information that the well-known astrophysicist had been on SG-1, but made no notion to ask more thoroughly. That is part of why he has stayed; O'Neill certainly has no problems with his presence. No, he actually prefers the times where it's him, Sherwood, Teal'c and Daniel. Sure, they lack a gentle approach, but it is easier to convince Daniel to walk on when Jonas Quinn isn't tagging along. In that capacity he has not changed since Carter retired or his ascension. He is still the ever-curious, ever-challenging, ever-friendly archeologist and a thorn in Jack's side when it comes to up-and-leaving.

His thoughts on Carter is putted on hold when the alarm of alien intruders ring out, alerting personnel of Cheyenne Mountain base of enemies amongst them. Presumably through the gate, he muses, wondering how the hell he missed the unscheduled incoming wormhole alert that usually echoes on the intercom system.

He hurries to the armory, keeping track of the armed airmen and SGC personnel making their way through the narrow corridors, their P90s locked into firing position. He quickly grabs his gear and the nearest semi-automatic weapon once he reaches said armory, heading for the gate room to ensure the security of the Stargate, dialing sequence and iris codes. So far, he has not heard General Hammond's voice over the intercom, which worries him.

He joins the scattered members of SG-5 and SG-12 and resumes command. "Anyone know anything?"

"No, sir," a lieutenant says, his eyes observant. "'Just heard the alarm and came here."

"So nobody heard an unscheduled off-world activation?" Jack inquires, his tone necessarily harsh. Military. He slips into the team leader he needs to be, even though these men and women are not his team; on several occasions has he served with them and he knows they are fine officers of the Air Force.

The soldiers shrug, shaking their heads. They continue down the corridor as he tries to radio the remaining teams on-base. He thinks of who might be here and comes to a shockingly conclusion: Carter. They have already searched and cleared the locker rooms, but he has no idea where his former junior officer is, not since he left her half an hour ago. She cannot have forgotten to arm herself and seek hiding, can she? Then again, she has changed so much.

Jack leads the unit to level 28 when he sees Teal'c firing a staff weapon. He is surprised to see at whom.

Ba'al. Unfortunately, a personal shield of Goa'uld design, emitting from the hand device, absorbs the blast. He is dressed in his usual obnoxiously pretentious robes, the smug grin on his face that infuriates Jack O'Neill each time. Without hesitation, O'Neill aims and fires, missing as Ba'al disappear around the corner.

"Teal'c, status?"

"Minutes ago, Ba'al managed to override the iris when SG-7 returned. He held it open long enough for Jaffa warriors to enter until he came himself. I have lost radio communication with the control room," the Jaffa reports solemnly as they trace Ba'al's route.

"Daniel and Carter?" Jack finds himself asking, too late realizing his mistake. Teal'c frowns but replies.

"I have not seen DanielJackson nor SamanthaCarter since the debriefing. I suspect that they are held up on base."

"Alright. Let's get these guys!"

Sherwood rejoins them moments later, reporting almost the same as Teal'c. It seems they have severely underestimated the Goa'uld, but also that SG-7 is not to blame (mainly because most of its members are not dead, but also because they were used as a means to infiltrate the SGC). The SG soldiers under the _de facto _unit flank Ba'al, overriding the door to the gate room so that they can see Ba'al's true intentions. Radio contacts say that they have searched the surrounding levels, but that Ba'al has remained on the twenty-eighth. Which means that whatever his plans are, they involve getting away through the Stargate. No way that it's gonna happen on Jack's watch!

The unit splits, one securing the personnel behind the blast doors in the control room, another creating a line of defense. Jac freezes when he sees the situation unfolding.

Ba'al's grab on Carter's neck tightens as he approaches the Stargate. She struggles against it, but unsuccessfully. Jack can see the despair in her eyes along with contempt. He recognizes that fierceness, and that's what makes him hope that this will not end badly.

"Ba'al!" he calls out, his hold on the riffle tight and ready. "Let. Her. Go," he instructs, no place for doubt in his voice. He sees amusement flash across the Goa'uld host's face, that smirk of opportunity.

"Well, Colonel, why would I?" Baal asks, eyes on Jack. The knife in his hand hangs dangerously close to Carter's neck. The collar on her shirt blouse is wrinkled, exposing a neckline he shouldn't think about. Her hands are trying to pry Baal's knife away, choking in the meantime. She has already lost her footing.

Jack aims his riffle scope. "I won't ask again, Ba'al!" he warns dangerously, trying to find an angle where Carter won't get hurt by the projectile weapon. Where are the zats when you need them? Unfortunately, Ba'al has a zat tucked into his belt, and Carter looks unceremoniously clumsy, leading him to believe that she has already been zatted once. She will not survive another shot.

Their eyes meet, Carter and O'Neill, and he already regrets the fact that she has been exposed this way.

"But, Colonel, you forget where I get my intel! Now, I want through the gate. Open it," the false god demands, his voice threatening, the knife slicing a bit of the skin on Carter's neck. She tries to conceal her wince. "Or are you willing to sacrifice one of your own?"

Next thing happening, Jack aims his weapon and pulls the trigger, but Ba'al pushes a device that unlocks the iris, exposing the event horizon that has already been dialed. Where it leads to is unknown, but Jack bets his monthly salary that it is an outgoing one and that technicians are already getting ready to redial.

Ba'al's knife slices through Carter's neck like butter, creating the grotesque red line where blood spills forward, choking her. Thereafter, Ba'al drags the dying Carter after him into the wormhole only seconds before it shuts down, taking all power to the gate room with it. Even in the darkness, all Jack can see is the replaying image of Carter's slit throat in his mind, blood spilling powerfully unto concrete.

* * *

**_Hating me now?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Bits and pieces this chapter is. I hope it is as good as the previous chapters. There are parts which were better until they came down. Ideas that seemed smarter off-print. But I won't leave you hanging. It's 00:08 AM here if I'm correct and I am preparing for my finals. I loved all of your reviews - keep them coming!

There's a lot of emotional toil here and I hope you're satisfied.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely Stargate.**

* * *

He is disappointed when he returns from the Tau'ri. Although he managed to successfully override their iris, he lost Jaffa and left with almost no treasure. _Almost _being the operative word. The brilliant Major Carter is now in his possession albeit with some minor scratches. Altogether, he is quite satisfied with the way it turned out. It is with a pleased expression that he saunters down the hallway of his favorite temple on one of the planets of his new empire.

Golden, glyph-covered walls create a rather intimidating justice and it empowers him. He enjoys the pretentious ways as slickly as he enjoys ruling. Others' pain has always been an expertise of his. He can always recall that sweet expression on humans' faces right before they scream out in agony, willing to tell him just about anything he wishes to know, be they honorable people or not. Devotion is easily broken once pain is introduced to the body. Only true fanatics allow their bodies to perish in the flames of pain and still remain quiet. But the expression is there either way, the final act of defeat. It is the most satisfying expression he knows.

He wickedly wonders what it will take to make Major Carter break. God knows Jack O'Neill was difficult, tiring even, but he did exhaust himself. Females are usually easier to break, succumbs faster, but he suspects Carter will be the exception to that rule. Secretly, he has always admired her fiery ways, always wondered how it would be to see the true agony upon her face, stripped of her morals, willing to do anything – _reveal_ anything – for just a moment of peace.

She has been absent for years, never seen when he encountered SG-1. He had suspected it was due to team rearrangements, but seeing that look on Colonel O'Neill's face – it was better than any expression of pain he'd seen in the past. So, Major Carter was the leverage he needed, should he ever encounter Colonel O'Neill. His superiors might not agree, but even he knew that O'Neill would never leave Carter in his care. He briefly wonders if they are involved. There was rage and possessiveness in his eyes when he held Carter hostage. And something else once her throat was slit.

Taking the woman hadn't been in his plans. Initially, the plan had been to prove to the Tau'ri that their precautions could easily be hacked and overridden. He is afraid to admit that it was his own anticipation that gave in, prompting him to go through the chappa-ai himself and see for himself the mayhem his Jaffa caused in his name. After all, he does love a mind game. Seeing the Tau'ri scattered at their own base was sadistically pleasing. His device worked perfectly, allowing him to remotely activate the chappa-ai and bring back an asset truly desired. They will avenge her, yes, but for now they think she is dead.

Nevertheless, he looks forward to the torturous days she will have to face, willing himself to enjoy every second of them. However brilliant and loyal she may find herself now, that will soon change when her body gives into pain.

Just as he is about to order the Tau'ri woman to be brought to the sarcophagus, one of his many servants brings him an urgent message; one that requires his full attention and makes him forget all about the incompetent humans of this galaxy and the impending pleasure of tearing her to pieces mentally.

Ba'al nearly runs to catch up with his Jaffa, everything falling apart in his previous plans.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

_One week later_

"General, how can we possibly –!" Colonel Jack O'Neill protests, waving his hands carelessly in the air. His expression is one of anger and misunderstanding. Clearly he is not satisfied with where this conversation is going.

Generals Landry and Hammond both look at him with understanding faces (or that's what it's meant to be, comforting). "Sorry, Jack, but we have been unable to track down Ba'al's movements since he was last seen at the SGC –," Hammond begins, but is cut off.

"Ask the snakeheads! They're our allies, they must know!" he argues, willing to pull all resources into finding Carter.

"Our stand on the Tok'ra is cautious for now, Colonel, in light of recent discoveries, but we are trying to communicate with the Council members," Hammond assures him. It is empty words.

"If Jacob knew, we'd already be out there," Jack points out, eyeing Daniel who sits retreated in the corner of the conference table, equally anxious to rescue Sam. If she is even alive. He suspects that it's because she is no longer military that they are hesitating.

Both men look guilty and he briefly wonders if they have rehearsed their synchronized facial expressions. Hammond knows Jacob better than anyone; of course he is inclined to feel guilty about not informing his friend of the hostage situation that turned fatal for his daughter. Hank Landry, however, is another ordeal. He sits there in his royal blue uniform, the stars of a general resting on his shoulders. He has been brought in on the situation to supervise a smooth transition of change of generals.

"Jacob is due for visitation tomorrow. I plan to inform him there," Hammond says, looking sternly, then adds, "It is a sensitive matter."

"Sirs –!" Jack protests, for the umpteenth time the past week trying to convince them to mount a rescue operation. There is still the ever-fading possibility that Carter is out there, in the grasp of Ba'al, no less, and these bureaucrats are doing everything in their power to _not_ do that!

"Enough, Colonel," Landry orders, staring into his eyes before guiding his glance elsewhere unto the group. Teal'c and Sherwood are both silent, watching him trying to convince them. Daniel interrupts occasionally to agree or disagree with Jack. "We will inform the Tok'ra representative tomorrow and hopefully establish some sort of intel of what has become of Dr. Carter."

"By then it could be too late!"

"It has already been a week, Jack," Hammond says, his eyes grievous and hopeful altogether. "We are doing something, but Ba'al is using previously unrecorded technology to shield his position. It will take months to search all of his strongholds."

"Which it is my _recommendations_," Jack retorts with spite, "that we get our asses out there! Carter has done more for this program than most of us, sir! _Despite _retiring, I would certainly like to think that she will be given the same effort to search for her."

"Of course, Colonel. Unfortunately, Dr. Carter was not equipped with a tracking beacon as other SG personnel due to her uninvolvement." Landry pauses. "It halts our options severely."

"Ba'al would've disconnected that immediately anyway!" Jack argues belligerently. Although he can sense that he is no longer being listened to, his rank as commanding officer of the flagship unit should be taken into consideration. Or maybe it's just that – knowing that Carter has been part of SG-1 and is not prone to breaking easily that makes them hesitate.

"I am aware of your earlier experience with Ba'al, but either way, you are dismissed, Colonel," it comes harshly from General Landry.

Furiously, Jack kicks his chair back, storming out of the room to highlight his dismay before any of his team members can stop him. To him, Carter is something.. well, she's like family. The distant cousin that everyone likes but rarely gets to see.

The irony of how he acted last week when she was here is groundbreakingly obvious to Jack. Ruefully, he finds the locker rooms and changes quickly, heading home. He has been taken off stargate travel after the incident last week. Personally, he thinks it is because the generals suspect that he will head for Carter once he is off-world. He can not truly deny the option. He knows better than anyone why they should get Carter away from Ba'al. He is certain that she is healed by the sarcophagus by now; getting tortured and killed and resurrected repeatedly for the immense pleasure of the Goa'uld.

He kicks his locker for good measure. One of the pictures fall down, knocked over on the floor. He bends down, feeling it in his knees, and picks it up. His face falls. He has finally taken down the ones of Charlie and Sara, but these hurt just as much, given the situation. Of all the pictures to fall down, he muses, trailing an index finger sentimentally across their faces.

It is a picture of the original SG-1 team: Daniel, Teal'c, him, and Carter, his arm draped over her shoulders. It is an old picture, taken before Carter resigned. That spark of brilliance and casualness still radiating in her blue eyes. It is only now he realizes his memory betraying him. She _has _changed in the past years, but it was exactly the expression that he would expect Carter from four years ago to send him if she was taken by Ba'al and held hostage. The defiance, the fear, the carelessness, the worry for others, the concern.

Jack shakes his head sober in the car. The image of a slit throat keeps replaying in his mind, haunting him, leading to sleeplessness. He has managed to keep it from Dr. Fraiser but he doesn't know how long he can deceive her. How long he can play along with the authorities and pretend to follow orders when all he wants to do is to go out there and make sure that Carter at least gets a decent funeral. He knows the mental games of Ba'al a bit too intimately. Carter doesn't deserve that, no matter how mad he was at her for leaving abruptly.

Samantha Carter is one of the brilliant people he has worked with during his years at the SGC that he would go through fire and ice to save. And now he is praying, staring at the picture of her, that she is still saveable.

_You don't leave a man behind._

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

When she awakes, the first thing she registers is the damp floor and walls. Her nostrils are complaining at the humidity, and she can barely see out her eyes. She awakes with an instant, or at least, it feels that way. Searching her minds for answers where she can't find any clues in her surroundings, she comes up empty.

She remembers starvation, food deprivation. Not much before that. She halts herself before she can think about Ellie. Then she feels tears stream down her cheeks, soundless in nature. The clothes she wears are not her own and unlike anything she has worn before. She feels violated when she cannot remember getting dressed in these clothes. Her body feels bruised and distorted.

Falling back on her training (at least that the Air Force gave her), she tries to make out the shape of the – cellar? – she is in, but it takes her an additional few minutes to make out anything distinctly odd because of the lack of sunlight (or any light, for that matter). It is hopelessly dark, the air crisp and oddly humid, every thing she touches with her scraped knees and palms a sickly wet sensation. She calls out in the darkness after she establishes the cell she is in is approximately eight by ten feet and with a ceiling she cannot reach if she could stand. All that answers her are echoes of her own words.

It takes her considerably longer to examine every inch of the cell and her own body in search for a way out and injuries respectively. All she comes up with on both ends are bruises.

How long has passed? Hours? Days? Weeks? Since when? She draws a blank. Hit suddenly by fading energy, she barely has the time to think before her body sags unceremoniously, sleep overtaking her.

Her mind awakens before her body does so. Her eyelids weigh heavily down, making her unable to open her eyes willingly. Instead, she resorts to probing her mind, seeking answers where she comes up with only questions. She grimaces at the sudden pain in her side, a weak burn to the throat.

She has a hard time remembering past dropping Ellie off at Mark's. She trails off the thought, sensing another presence.

_I am Pakhet_, the voice within her head says. Its distorted voice inside her mind tells Sam all she needs to know, devastatingly fast.

Oh God. You're a –

_A Goa'uld, yes. However, I do not wish to harm you._

How did this happen?, Sam demands, using the advantage the conversation gives her, not knowing when Pakhet will simply suppress her.

_You have been a host before, Samantha Carter. Surely your experience with Jolinar of Malkshur has taught you the relationship between symbiote and host._

Sam stirs, trying to move, defiance whelming up in her. She grits her teeth, moving through the pain.

_Stop, _Pakhet orders, _I am trying to heal your body. It was injured when I entered you. Further movement will lead to exhaustion on both our parts._

This is my only chance of fighting anyway_, _Sam argues, obeying her orders nevertheless. Maybe she cannot see through the deceit, but like with Jolinar, she senses the truth.

_It is not, Sam. _

What do you mean?, Sam asks.

_I am giving you the opportunity of a partnership. I am weak and older than you can imagine. If you fight, I may not have the power to survive. I may not be able to part from you without causing harm. That is not my wish. I am offering you a spot as a willing participant. I need a host. If you do not resist me, I will allow our minds to act separately._

You are a Goa'uld, the rational part of Sam protests, remembering the impact of Jolinar forcing herself upon her.

_I am merely a weak underlord, not interested in becoming more. I despise Ba'al for his actions, but I am his companion nevertheless. _

I can't imagine that, Sam retorts somewhat sarcastically.

_Yet you do not doubt the principles of the Tok'ra, _Pakhet points out; there is no point lying to the symbiote, as it shares her mind. Sam fears that she has already seen too much in her memories.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Jacob Carter enjoys the few in between moments where visits to Earth merely mean visiting his children. In the past, he would always see his daughter on the other side of the Stargate, but now he has to dress in civilian clothes and take a chopper to get there. Fortunately, they now both live in the same state, even if it is California.

When he was told three years ago that his daughter had resigned from the Air Force, a comment subtly and casually thrown in his direction, he had frozen. Sam had always expressed her desire to be the best, and although he had been impressed when she had told him about what she did at Stargate Command, he had always raised her to aim higher. Since her retirement, he has never truly accepted that his bright daughter quitted the Air Force she so desperately fought to be in. As a woman and with the strength and stubbornness of a Carter, she had gone through tests and sexism before ending at SGC, a place where genders did not matter, but one's actions did. He admits, he had ever-so-lightly prodded at her for throwing herself into work whenever she had downtime, never questing for a social life outside the military (Jacob could relate, having lied to his friends and family about his work for years, never being able to tell them the truth, but he had married and had kids anyway).

He had accepted her choice to be a career woman and then she had retired out of the blue. There are still times where he finds himself unsatisfied with her choices and he has voiced his opinions, too. However, he now has Selmak to keep him in tow, reminding him about the small things in life that makes living. He has certainly grown more relaxed since his blending in the capacity that he shared a part of his life with his daughter, briefly due to her retirement. He won't give up on finding the cause to her retirement, but Jacob will never pretend to understand his daughter, brilliant as she might be.

Therefore, descending the platform to the Stargate and seeing the serious expression on his old friend's face makes him worry; at first for the galaxy and interstellar relations. However, he is soon informed of the incident that infuriates him not to have been informed earlier. It makes him so angry that Selmak takes over, suppressing his temper.

"_Why were we not informed before?_" Selmak asks, Jacob's anger seeping through. Their body tenses with dismay and concern for his daughter.

"We did attempt to contact the Tok'ra, Jacob," George responds, his gaze equally startled at how well he is containing himself. Without Selmak, Jacob is sure he'd be yelling by now. "But it was easier this way."

"_I will have to contact the Tok'ra using our internal communications center, but this information should have been relayed before!_"

That is an hour ago. The Tok'ra responded quickly and instead of recalling them, Jacob and Selmak were ordered to stand down as it was a personal matter. Jacob had reluctantly agreed, his emotions in turbulence at the time. They have yet to settle. Selmak convinced him to visit Mark in San Diego, although it seems like a bad idea each mile they are closing in.

One thing he has learnt about national security is keeping his family out of it. While distinctly different when it comes to Sam, Jacob has always felt bad about lying to his bitter son, who had retreated across the country as soon as he could. It is only in the last few years that they have established and maintained a relationship even remotely civil enough to be considered father and son. Of course, Mark doesn't know about the Stargate, or Selmak (to the dismay of the symbiote at first, but then he accepted the need for untruths) or the Tok'ra. That narrows down the subjects of everyday life conversation, but Jacob has been around long enough to come up with alternative matters of discussion.

Needless to say, his relationship with Mark has improved significantly. Despite being an entirely different species, Selmak has proven remarkably wise in the guiding. Jacob now sees his son and grandkids regularly. Sam more or less often. Sometimes she is absent at their family gatherings, sometimes she is there. Normally he stays for a weekend and sees Sam at some point or another. Lately, she hasn't been there, too busy with civilian calculations. It was May when he saw her last.

He knows that it will be devastatingly hard to put on a facade and pretend that he doesn't know Mark's sister has been abducted by an alien. That he hasn't seen the security footage (while Selmak was in charge) where her throat was slit.

He is a better actor than he gives himself credit for. Touching down with the helicopter and its pilot, he is on ground within minutes, the airfield dense and dusty in the Californian heat. Personally, Jacob prefers the more green and spacier states with mountain ranges and moss-clad underfloor, tall coniferous trees beside him. As a retired air force officer, he is very versatile to the point where his kids have inherited it over the years. Sam certainly always bounces back. Mark, however, is less forgiving. During one of their recent conversations, Jacob had come to understand him better than the rash uproars he threw as a teenager and young man, a childish declaration of disregard for anything remotely related to Jacob or the Air Force. Jacob now feels sorry for what Sam must have endured once she followed into his footsteps, joining the Air Force that his son so obviously loathed.

And now where everything is supposed to be okay, that has happened. Putting on his brave face, Jacob takes a cab to the San Diego suburbs, imaging the kept garden and mowed lawn and the faces of his beloved grandchildren. Lisa and David are the prime example of what his own wife wished for in grandkids when she was alive (although she dreaded the distance between Jacob and his own children).

Julie Samuels was exactly the woman to balance out the tension between the male Carters the first time Jacob visited after his blending. She is witty, pretty and a great mother to the youngest branches of the Carter family. Brown-haired and able to quote most law books, Julie is one of the most charismatic women Jacob has met. Of course, most of the women he meets now are, by Earth definition, alien, some not even human.

He shuts the car door of the sedan, his fingers tightening around the rental car keys. Considering most of what he can operate is alien technology, it feels strange to be back to Earth civilization and its perks. It also strangely soothes him, makes him able to go through that door and pretend. Julie opens the door upon hearing his knock, showing him a surprised expression before morphing into the familiar smile.

"Jacob! Come in," she says, gesturing awkwardly to her occupied hands as if to explain the lack of hug. In her left hand is a pair of children's binoculars and in her right, a skipping rope, presumably Lisa's. Julie moves away from the threshold as Jacob steps in, offering assistance which she graciously accepts.

"Sorry if the living room is a mess. Liz decided that drawing lying down was much better," the brunette jokes lightly, hinting at the massive amount of paper used for finger painting that lie everywhere.

"Kids," Jacob shrugs casually, not minding the mess one bit. He follows Julie's instructions on where to put the toys.

"Want something? Water? Coffee? I have a pot of tea on," his daughter-in-law genuinely offers, smiling lovely.

"No, thanks, I'm good, Julie," he assures her, joining beside her in a worn eating table chair. She seems happily tired, the exhaustion of being a parent tearing at the edges of her. "How is life treating you?"

"Great. Liz is doing well in third grade. She even started taking swimming lessons since the last time you were here," Julie says proudly but not enough to warrant any concern of pressure from Jacob. He has seen the way Julie is with her kids: she is not one of those types, pressuring their kids to please their parents and to excel at just about everything. Julie takes pride in independent thought and waits for her kids to have their says. Lisa must have voiced her wish to start swimming.

"That's good," Jacob comments.

"And Davy is a real firecracker. Kindergarten boys and their stamina, I tell you," she elaborates while she pours herself a cup of tea. While a proud addict of the black beverage going by the name of coffee, Jacob has never understood the need to sip warm liquids when it is eighty degrees in the shade.

"Is Mark home?" he asks, finding their undisturbed conversation unusually silent.

"He just drove to the supermarket for some groceries." Strands of hair have escaped the hair clip, creating a halo of brown around her heart-shaped face. "You must've just missed him."

"And the kids?"

Julie smiles. "Backyard. We got a treehouse last week. It's impossible to get them inside except for dinner time and curfew. I think it's too cold during the nights. David disagrees. We had to drag him down yesterday, and the day before that he fell asleep," she tells, chuckling.

"Mom, mom!" a child's voice yells, running through the house just as the front door is smacked shut, alerting them to Mark's presence and arrival. Jacob remains in his chair, Julie standing up, still cradling her cup.

"Wait a sec, honey!" she motherly calls out, disappearing off to assist whoever needed her attention. Mark enters the kitchen, his eyes lighting up with recognition and spark of reunion. He puts the brown paper bags down before offering a hug.

"Dad," he says, not fully surprised. "I thought you'd be arriving.. later."

"I got a lift," Jacob replies. "Hope you don't mind, I could always leave," he offers, only half jokingly.

"No, it's okay," Mark replies, obviously preoccupied.

Julie returns, her hand on David's shoulder. He looks displeased but holding back tears bravely. "He cut himself on a branch," she explains, guiding him to the sink to clean the wound.

"That's what happens when they start climb," Jacob muses, exchanging knowing looks with Mark. He remembers one of the Sundays he had off, coming home to have Sam do exactly what David had done, encouraged by Mark. They now share a smile, reminiscing.

"It's not that bad," Julie comforts her son, eyeing the wound and inspecting it carefully. He is going to have a sore thumb, that is for sure. Jacob is sure she has seen much worse at her job as a lawyer. Her hands are firmly on David's shoulders. After a quick band-aid, he is off to show his sister his battle wound.

"Hon, we need to buy more of the Disney band-aids again," Julie informs her husband as she puts the first aid kit away. When Mark sends her a look of disbelief, she replies: "It's the only ones David will wear."

Mark shakes his head, amused, but nods. "I'll do that."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

When Julie begins to cook, Jacob and Mark take their casual conversation to the backyard to supervise the kids, should David's stoic battle cry not be the last. Jacob swallows, thinking of another family member's blood. Selmak reminds him to act casual and suppress the memory as per orders from the Tok'ra High Council.

For a pair of siblings, Lisa and David play remarkably well without rivalry (for the moment). What surprises Jacob is the brown-haired creature that effortfully keeps up with the siblings, her size seemingly insignificant. She is wearing purple-pink stockings and a velvet bottle green dress with overall-style buttons. Her hair, tamed in the curliest ponytail he has ever seen, camouflages most of her body. She looks to be an old toddler.

But she wasn't there when he was here in May.

"Who's that?" he asks Mark, who is sipping a beer in this lovely (according to Julie, cool) afternoon. At first, he looks confused, then follows Jacob's line of sight.

"Oh, that's Ellie. She's one of David and Lisa's friends. We're babysitting her till her mom gets back," Mark says, attempting to be casual but fails and is hesitant.

Jacob lets it slip, his eyes falling again on the toddler. She looks familiar. Maybe she _was_ here in May. She could easily have grown in the last six months. But no, it's something else, something that nags him casually. Selmak offers insight in his memories, declaring that Ellie wasn't there last time. The few times she turns her head in their direction, he is startled with recognition.

Her devil-may-care attitude and childish glee remind him of Sam her age. Sam's hair was brighter, but the eyes..

They're alike. Equally indomitable.

"Mark..," he begins, not daring to risk their newly established relationship. "If she isn't yours and Julie's.." he trails off, seeing the look upon Mark's face – he never could keep a straight face, that was always something his sister mastered better, but is shocked to see the reaction. "... she's Sam's?"

Dust settles, eyes are flickered away, grips tightened. In front of them, the three children play with a certain ignorance. Jacob is shocked – while it certainly explains Sam's behavior these last few years and her reluctance to work at SGC, he is dumbfounded to actually consider it. Yes, they are not very close, but the Stargate Program had changed that; at least, he thought so. And who might the father be? O'Neill? Jacob always suspected the commanding officer of his daughter to be fond of Sam, but always thought his daughter too smart to fall for a guy like Jack O'Neill. Evidently, she had fallen for someone – he'd hate to think that a child to be the product of a casual dalliance.

"Dad..," Mark begins, quickly setting his beer on the table. He has that mediating look on, as if trying to save his presently absent sister from a serious reprimand. He is already out of his chair.

"What is she, four, five?" he says in confusion.

"Three," Mark answers, looking down.

Then the truth comes to Jacob's mind, persistently sent by Selmak. Sam is gone. Mark doesn't know – hell, he is perhaps out of the loop, babysitting Ellie indefinitely. Julie doesn't know, either. He suspects Sam dropped off Ellie to go to Stargate Command, expecting to be home the very same afternoon. Jacob feels sick.

"Three," he repeats in disbelief. Now he can't take his eyes of – what now is – his third grandchild. A daughter. His heart nearly melts in all its furious glory. She looks like Sam did. Her skintone is darker, her hair different, but the eyes and the nose? No wonder he recognized something in her. Ashamed at not seeing it first, and knowing it is his absence in his own kids' childhoods, he sits down, knowing that if Selmak hadn't been there, he would likely have a stroke by now.

He swallows. "Ellie?"

"Short for Elara," Mark explains. "Sam insisted on it. I don't know why she kept it from you, but she made us swear –."

"You two always were able to keep secrets," Jacob murmurs dryly under his breath. He blinks repeatedly, as if trying to process the information.

"Kids, dinner's ready!" Julie's voice calls out from the living room, and the children descend from the treehouse, Ellie's movements only slightly less adventurous than Lisa and Davy's. Her legs are shorter, so by the time she reaches the door, her cousins are in, washing their hands, Mark not too far behind. She halts, gazing weirdly upon him with a too familiar look. Too wise for a kid her age, despite looking older than she actually is – three! – but then again, it has been some time since Jacob has seen kids on an average basis. She has clearly inherited Sam's intelligence and her beguiling ways.

"_Kel,_ _Tok'ra. Kel sha,_" she greets in fluent Goa'uld, a language Jacob only masters thanks to Selmak. He can sense the symbiote's shock and that even he is surprised (which says a lot, given that he is well past the age of a millennium). And for a moment, Jacob can almost hear the distorted voice.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Arguing with an implanted, parasitic species is much like talking to yourself. Only, Sam doesn't find it a tidbit of ridiculous. While Pakhet willingly shares her state of mind and memories, therefore posing as a significant threat to base security, she – it – has never raised its voice or tried to gain full control over her body which they now share. It is tiring Sam to come up with paranoid ideas as to why she hasn't yet claimed her new host body.

_I have shown you what happened. I can feel you tiring. You are damaging this body, so newly healed_, the entity complains, and Sam actually finds herself hearing a female ring to it. Worse is, it seems like Pakhet is actually convincing her.

"You have my memories, too, tell me – wouldn't you resist?" Even the scenarios are sounding too absurd. The Goa'uld isn't even human, why expect it to be humane?

_Either by paranoia or Pakhet's unusually strong impulses, Sam hears the sound of a heavy metal lock being unlocked, hinges complaining sorely. She tries to collect herself and ready for a fight, but Pakhet starts fussing in the back of her mind. She quickly organizes the gold-threaded dress with an elegance and understanding she thinks comes from Pakhet._

"_Pakhet_," a well-known, deep, distorted voice greets. A voice that makes Sam mentally shiver and shy away. Luckily (depending on the point of view) Pakhet takes lead, and Sam finds herself rising in a blunt pose, her shoulder unsagging and striding proudly forward.

"_Ba'al, my lord_," Pakhet greets, using her vocal cords. Empowerment fuels Sam and she manages to cock an arrogant brow, smirking while she does so. Sam, who has always fought to hide her femininity in her career is blushing mentally at the boldness of Pakhet. So much that she is paralyzed to do anything but feel what Pakhet feels. It is interesting to say the least.

* * *

Sam ends up accepting the offer.

* * *

**You liked? I found Jacob hard to write, and Mark came off as a retreater. I hope none of them (besides Ba'al) were standoffish. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Re-reading this, it was very confusing, mixing the shes, but it serves a purpose. Also, I'd like to remind you that this is from POVs, meaning that it cannot be perceived solely as the truth. There's always more to it. My muse decided to bail on me as my stress level increased. Sorry!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: SG-1 or anything remotely related to the franchise.**

* * *

**Part four of Changing Priorities**

They move with gracefulness and such coordination that part of her is in awe. She has barely recovered from starvation so her body is weak, her mind blurred by the intermingled mind. They are aware of each other, moving in synchronization. Separated, one part would move stealthier and more bulky, but now they move as one, breathe as one, think as one. It is truly terrifying when you've always liked to control your own life.

Sam has found that Pakhet has kept her promise. Sometimes, she takes over when she senses that Sam cannot deceive Ba'al or his Jaffa, but mostly, she allows her control of her own body. And the shared knowledge is a fascinating thing, true to what Garshaw's host said all those years ago. She realizes the irony of the fact that a Tok'ra took control and a Goa'uld is allowing her free passage. It is hard to tell where she stops and Pakhet continues these days.

Pakhet's quarters are more private than that of the Tok'ra. She is astonished by the vast amount of knowledge she has obtained, but also the artifacts in her quarters. Had she been anything like Daniel, she would have started cataloguing right away. Pakhet seems fond of them, wincing when Sam's clumsy hands touch the precious vases and relics. Sam finds it amusing to tease her like that. Having proven her wrong – so far – she has reluctantly accepted that Pakhet is planning to keep her end of the deal. It doesn't put Sam at ease, but it keeps her alive. The dresses provided are elegant and shows more of Samantha's body than she would like to, but Pakhet knows a thing or too about posture. She has revealed that she has had three dozen hosts in the past few millennia, mostly females but males when the need was too severe.

Her extensive knowledge of the Goa'uld language and customs have blown Sam's mind, surprised to find a civilized way to the greedy, arrogant parasites. Pakhet has not corrected her when she thinks this, nor has she acknowledged the selfishness of her race.

_It has been our way for thousands of years, Samantha. Some of us are too stuck in our ways_, the symbiote reminds her like an embarrassed relative.

Who cleans these places?, Sam asks, a lazy curiosity settling.

_Human slaves. Jaffa women. I have never wondered._

Comments like those annoys Sam because of her carelessness. Pakhet doesn't even notice it, too tired to care, but too weathered not to form an opinion on the rest of the imperfections of Goa'uld ruling. In many ways, she is like a persistent friend. Albeit one she cannot escape.

Ba'al doesn't suspect, not even when Sam is in control and tenses involuntarily at his being. She can access the distorted voice and speak like Pakhet would. She has learnt a great deal of viable intel in the time she has been there. Ba'al obviously does not even consider the idea that she couldn't be suppressed, least of all that his beloved Pakhet plans to destroy him (Pakhet has mentioned it once to Sam, but ignored her on the subject ever since). And Sam is every bit of happy that Ba'al and Pakhet do not use their hosts to, er, be together. They are simply century-old companions. Sam is also aware of the faintness of Pakhet. While she can heal her body, it requires power to suppress a host for long, which means that their arrangement allows Pakhet to be undrained of energy.

Walking barefooted down the gold-clad hallways, Sam tries to put down her curiosity. Pakhet knows these halls in the back of her mind, aware of how Ba'al designs his strongholds. She is present in the back of her mind like an older sister forced to watch her sister. Never once has Pakhet lost her temper, though. Always patient if a little careless – even when Sam failed miserably at operating the kara'kesh and obtaining knowledge from the symbiote on how. The ribbon device sits awkwardly on her wrist, unnerving her much like it did when she tried on Kendra's. Pakhet's is in silver, indicating her status as an Underlord. Frankly Sam had never considered the possibility that what material used for the ribbon device indicated rank. In return, Sam has tried to explain the rank and insignias of U.S. Military. She figures that she has no-one else to tell it, and it will not mean anything, should Pakhet infiltrate Earth.

The Goa'uld has several times reprimanded her and complained about her short hair to which Sam has always snorted and stated that it is longer than it used to be. Pakhet always wear her hair in a braid. If Sam had a scrunchie, she would simply style a ponytail, her fingers always unpleasantly numb after braiding.

Secretly, Sam has always admired the artwork of the Goa'uld vessels and technology. Now she has the time to study it while Pakhet talks to others through her. Her Goa'uld is limited at best, but a flowing transition to fluency is happening subconsciously as their memories shift.

While Pakhet is otherwise occupied with Jaffa or Ba'al himself or minor errands, Sam shuts herself deep down, allowing herself to worry about Ellie. By sharing other information, she hopes she can keep Ellie and her existence from the symbiote, not knowing if she is just another sort of spy. She is glad she isn't in control of the body, because then she would perish in sobs and tears. She has never been away from Ellie this long; not that she is homesick, no, she is just a mother. Will Mark take care of her when she doesn't return any of his calls? She can't be sure how long she has been gone. A longing burns in her, originating in the separation from her child. Ellie is only three. Will she have to grow up without her mother, like Sam did? The difference is, she has no father. Martouf is dead, the image still stings to replay in her mind. It happened mere hours after confessing her pregnancy to him, feeling the need to inform him. She expected no offer at relocating or support, just wanted to be honest with him. To her bafflement, Lantash even offered to separate himself from Martouf and allow him to return to Earth with her. Sam would have expected it to be the other way around – that they would have insisted on her going with them or terminating the unborn child. They did neither, both killed by her hand when it was revealed that Martouf was a za'tarc. With her gone, Ellie will be an orphan. She doesn't hesitate that Mark and Julie will make wonderful parents to her angel, but they cannot begin to comprehend the challenges they will face. The SGC does not even know about Ellie, so how could they possibly make a cover story for her abduction and know where to send it?

From her catatonic state within the mind of her own body, she barely reacts when Pakhet nudges her mentally – or physically; Sam is too emotional to care. Pakhet is wrapped around her spinal cord, a place she could easily nudge her in several places as she is able to control every neuron in her body. But atop of her own emotional toil, she feels a deeper concern.

_Sam?_, Pakhet asks gently, having ended the conversation with the Jaffa and walked back to her quarters.

All too worried about revealing Ellie's location, Sam tries her best to think of something else – vanilla ice cream – but the raw emotions remain there indefinitely and for Pakhet to pick up on.

_Samantha, are you alright? I can barely control your body. Just ask and you will –_

That's not it, she quickly says, her voice snotty.

Then it downs on Pakhet. Sam can feel clarification and realization as were it her own. _You miss your homeworld._

Sam feels silly nodding, but does it either way. Pakhet is like a friend that knows her too well; now able to read and distinguish her emotions. To confront her when all she wants to do is shy away. Sam is far too ignorant on their new partnership to reverse the effect, but bits and pieces are becoming more natural.

"I am not ungrateful for your healing of me," Sam says aloud, gaining freely the control of the body. For the first time in weeks, Pakhet allows herself to be a mere presence in her mind. The angel and devil on her shoulders, so to speak. "But yes," she acknowledges, declaring defeat, "I miss Earth."

_I can imagine. Over the years I have felt hosts and their longing to be back amongst their friends and family. If it were possible, I would console your needs, _the female symbiote replies. Technically, they are genderless, but Sam finds it less intrusive to think of Pakhet as female.

"It is the thought that counts," Sam hiccups and instantly feels Pakhet's risen brow and confusion. "It's an expression."

Sam takes the opportunity to gaze out a window, seeing the bare lands surrounding the stronghold. Ba'al's location is blunt, but has he ever been particularly humble?

_No_, Pakhet replies although Sam didn't make it a question. She simply thought it and wondered.

Days pass, and Sam finds herself going nuts. Pakhet has little role, even for an Underlord, simple called for when Ba'al needs to voice his own conquests and victories, to brag about his own superior competence. He is worse than Rodney McKay. She doesn't know how long she can take it, listening to him with the same patience that Pakhet seemingly personifies. While she likes the quiet when she works of theoretic and practical physics – extraterrestrial and human – she is a woman of action, which is why it worked so well on the Stargate Program. It was literarily the best of both worlds. Now she finds herself trapped like a defiant child getting punished.

'Khet?, she asks one day, bored and wondering. 'What do Goa'ulds do for fun?'

_They conquer_, the symbiote replies flatly. _Why do you think they are considered sociopaths by your kind?_

Sam pays enough attention to notice that she didn't say 'we', but 'they'. While her thoughts are not purely angelic, she is well in between the Tok'ra and common Goa'uld. Then again, who is she to judge? Her last, brief encounter was with Jolinar, a Tok'ra who used her the way the Goa'uld usually do once she realized Sam wasn't going to fold. Then again – who is host more than once?

_Who is he?_ Pakhet asks out of the blue. She isn't being interrogative. Just... curious.

Who?

_The man. The host of the one you call Lantash in your mind_, Pakhet explains. She could easily obtain the knowledge, but she seems to enjoy their relaxed pose across the silken sheets on the soft bed. The air is humid, the sun hot in its zenith.

"His name is Martouf," she murmurs, knowing that no matter what Pakhet will hear her. It is out of comfort and habit she speaks instead of communicating telepathically. If it is even considered telepathically when they share a mind.

_You have great feelings for this.. Martouf_, Pakhet states softly. Sam stiffens, not realizing what she is asking for.

"I guess I do," she says to sate the symbiote who is intrigued by human and Tok'ra customs. She has never thought much about Martouf and Lantash; she has pretty much kept them away from her mind, finding the truth too tragic. Had things been different, events played out differently, she might have found herself loving Martouf and (although the idea seemed foreign at the time, it is not as disturbed as it once were) Lantash. Both noble and sentient, both open-hearted and kind. Different personalities, but as Martouf once claimed, they feel the same. Felt. All these images and memories float through Sam and into Pakhet. The good, the bad, the tragic. Incoherently, perhaps, but they are as confused as Sam's feelings towards him are.

But she had no answer, denial or acknowledgement to give Pakhet. Her uttermost sacred and intimate memories of him are one of the best she has. The way he treated her, even mourning Jolinar, when he should have been bitter to find the host sans mate alive due to Jolinar's sacrifice. The foursome's interconnected feelings transcended the love by human standards. The superficial love from movies and Hollywood. Lantash and Jolinar were together for over a hundred years. Who can compete with that at the age she is?

She remembers the warm nights of Vorash and the comfy ride on an equine creature to the Stargate. Sam had been stationed there briefly to ensure the treaty to be uphold. During that time, she had found the company of both personalities both charming and relaxing. It was the first time she had ever brought an animal through the gate. The animal was a mix of a horse and a camel, a dauntless creature with a nice, soothing gait and easy to control. It was larger than she expected, but the alternative way to travel through the stargate, her head against Martouf's chest was wonderful with the setting sun in their backs. They arrived on a similar desert planet, its sun, too, setting and had ridden in the pre-twilight before making it to a bedouin city, the tents camouflaged in the light sand.

Sleepily but curious and amazed by the beautiful landscape, careless about the breaking of her orders to remain at Vorash until otherwise needed and to report any off-world travel that didn't include Earth, Sam reluctantly let go of her hold around his waist. He slid of the creature and tied it to a wooden pole, supporting Sam as she, too, slid off the creature from her astride position. The clothes that the Tok'ra considered civilian and had been provided for her were not as scanty as most of the female Tok'ra's, but managed to fall awkwardly. The fabric was in the way for her to move freely as in her BDUs, but Martouf had insisted that she wore it and so she had.

By then her feelings for the pair hadn't faded. Remaining strong as an ever-reminder of Jolinar, she had begun to feel honored to have remnants of unadulterated love in her. It was no secret that she didn't have much of a social life back on Earth. Being with the Tok'ra made up for that on a philosophical level. Being with Martouf and in the company of Lantash did too.

It didn't feel wrong to be there with them. It felt oddly intoxicating and numbing at the same time. Positively anesthetizing. Touches had turned into something more; slow, passionate kisses trailing down hot skin. Undressing intimately. It felt good to be with Martouf. It felt _right_, like she had done it before. Like she knew every inch like her own. Emotions overwhelmed her...

Sam sobers up, placing the intimate memory far into her emotional shield. She can feel her body's reaction to the vivid memory, the reliving. Unfortunately, Pakhet can, too.

_What happened? Your feelings are tainted with mourning_, the symbiote points out, rummaging in her mind for an explanation.

"He died," Sam says sharply. That is one memory she doesn't wish to relive. Pakhet seems sated with her answer, or feels her distress and respectfully retreats.

After a while, sitting still on the luxurious bed in the chamber of treasures that is their private quarters, Pakhet speaks. _I once considered joining the Tok'ra._

"You did?" Sam asks, semi-surprised. She doesn't know if it's the truth or the symbiote is saying it to lessen her pain. She can barely control her own emotions right now, let alone read Pakhet's more contained ones.

_Yes. But then I realized how quickly I would be killed by Ba'al_, she tells solemnly with a regretful voice. _I stayed here to inflict the most damage. _

"I'm sorry," Sam whispers.

_I don't understand the custom of apologizing what is not you fault, Sam, but thanks anyway_, Pakhet replies, using words of her vocabulary. Like Sam is absorbing her knowledge and experimenting with the Goa'uld language, Pakhet is keeping up, too.

_He's coming!_

Sam jerks from the bed, trying to calm herself. It is hard to pretend not to spite Ba'al. She smoothens her skirts, stepping into the golden-strapped sandals. It is all very Egyptian, but Pakhet is also an Egyptian goddess, so Sam figures that is why.

"_Pakhet, beloved_," Ba'al greets, seemingly having no problem with marching in uninvited. Then again, Goa'ulds use bodies for worse things so maybe they don't have the same scale of decency and properness. His voice may have been seductive and pleasing to an ignorant stranger, but it leaves Sam with a bad taste in her mouth, nauseous. To have someone so empathically impaired even linger to adjust himself to her is sickening. Goosebumps rise, but she quickly slips into another skin, playing the part of Pakhet.

"_Ba'al, my lord._" She moves to bow deeply, but is interrupted by his hand on her wrist. The pain is sudden and sharp, then gone, but enough to warn her of the change. She sends him a confused glance.

"_I want you to accompany me,_" he says darkly, gleeful even. For a moment she is afraid that he means to the anti-gravitational chamber. He is notorious for its acid-knife-dagger-death method. He has a sarcophagus for the purpose of reviving the dead for his own pleasure. It unnerves Sam, having seen herself the damage it does on the mind.

"_Whereto?_" Pure sexism, Sam is certain. To be treated like some arm-candy. Frustrated, she plays along, feeling the confusion of Pakhet as well.

The maniacal spark in his eyes gleam with anticipation. Physically, Sam steps back, terrified. He speaks with glee and disgust. "_The Tau'ri._"

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Callista has never envied the position of Selmak. While she admires his knowledge and respects him thousandfold, since he was blended with the Tau'ri host, Jacob, he has been more subjective on the matters of the Tau'ri. Being aligned with him amongst the Tok'ra is walking a thin line but Callista likes his company. They have had many conversations, some with Jacob, but most with Selmak, who likes his new host and the values he brings to the Tok'ra in general.

Callista's host stirs, awaking from sleep. She is not an early riser, but this mission requires them to be awake near dawn. It is an important matter.

"_Selmak_," she greets, bowing her head in respect for the elder Tok'ra. She can only dream of his wisdom.

"_Callista_," he says in response, his tone disapproving on the matters to attend. He is clearly troubled, but she appreciates that he has informed them nevertheless. "_I had hoped to speak with one of the Council._"

"_Seeing as you wouldn't get into details, they sent me_," she explains, cropping a brow. "_That is, if you still think it is important._"

Jacob grimaces, although Callista cannot tell if it is due to Selmak or the host. "_It is._"

"_What is this about, Selmak?_" She grows impatient, upset somehow that he does not respectfully her enough to by forthcoming. He did send for a representative to advice on the given situation. He wanted to report, but now? He seems conflicted.

"_It concerns the recent abduction of Samantha Carter of the Tau'ri_," he says mournfully. Callista remembers that it is the daughter of his host and a former member of the Tau'ri's SG-1 team.

"_My condolences,_" she says briefly."_We have already pulled all resources available to find Ba'al's stronghold_," she points out, knowing that he has tried to gain empathy for his host before.

"_That is not why I sent for you,_" Selmak ignores his tone."_I found out she had a child. A child with Goa'uld knowledge_."

Callista's eyes widen. "_Outrageous! Why wasn't this reported?_"

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

_Two days earlier_

Jacob enjoys being on Earth. The sun isn't quite the same from other solar systems, and here he is aware of the societal and technological development. Not to mention the pop culture. Also, here is his family. Although widowed, he still has kids and grandchildren who appreciate his being there. However, Ellie comes as a surprise.

In the few days he has been here, he has been introduced to one of the cleverest three-year-olds he has ever met. Ellie seems to be aware that he is Tok'ra but feels no ill-will and adapts quickly into situations. She has never spoken in the Goa'uld tongue in front of Mark, Julie and the kids. It is remarkable but also thrilling. On the outside she is a girl with energy like a firecracker, light-brown ringlets that seem to shine no matter how dirty her cheeks are. Her mind, however, contains knowledge of far greater prospect.

Sitting at the backyard table while Julie is picking up Lisa from a play date, he observes the two youngest of his grandkids. He has to admit, their energy reminds him of when Mark and Sam were children, playing in a backyard much like this, the air less crispy. He misses Elizabeth immensely when he compares his grandchildren to their parents. Beth, who always loved him despite his focus on his military career. Despite his military career. Despite the many deployments and disclosure agreements that prevented him from mentioning the work he did. Beth, who raised his children and who Lisa is named after. Beth, who left them all too soon.

He acknowledges the sense of loss, then smiles in reminiscence. Beth would have adored Lisa, David and Ellie. She would have been proud of Mark and Sam, and she would have loved having Julie as a daughter-in-law. She would have babysat Ellie which would have meant that Sam would not have had to keep her daughter a secret.

But even now Jacob sees why. Disbelief has faded and left understanding of Sam's decision. In the past few days he has gotten to know Ellie. She is wonderful, gleeful, beautiful. Full of life, of spirit, of hope, of youth, of energy. Of mind. Looking at her, Jacob sees nothing but life impersonated. The way she indomitably struggles to keep up with David, fighting sleep until it defeats her, and yawns turn too frequent. It is admirable that she can climb the rope ladder to the treehouse, up and down without having fallen down once. Jacob has seen her sleep like the harmless creature she is, curled up in a fetal position, her hair messily down her back, clothes ruffled. It is only while she is awake that one realizes her potential.

She plays well with David. The six-year-old boy seems enthused to have a playmate that isn't his sister. He treats her patiently and kindly, at worst rushing her. It is an odd friendship, but they make a great pair in tag. She always bounces back and outsmarts him if he thinks he is above her. She reminds Jacob of another little girl with wits to rival her brother's intelligence. As much as he finds it odd, he has to admit that Ellie is truly Sam's daughter.

He notices the little things, how she makes a face at the idea of chocolate ice cream, how she grimaces when she takes her socks on, absolutely adorable, and how she is the first to wake in the morning, quickly stirring the others.

These details, these traits that make up Ellie, they trouble him. Because he knows, Selmak knows, that they will have to inform the Tok'ra. Whoever sired Ellie (he hates the comparison, especially what it makes his own daughter, but Selmak insists on using that word) had vast knowledge of the Tok'ra, greeting him the unique way. Either Sam told her daughter everything, which he highly doubts, or Ellie is a Harcesis child, fathered by a Goa'uld host. A Tok'ra host.

Setting her fondness for raspberries and swing-sets aside, Jacob contemplates his choices. Ellie is his granddaughter! He knows by her cuteness that Sam would have done everything in her power to prevent him from taking her away, except now Sam has been taken, leaving Ellie an orphan by default. Julie and Mark know nothing of that world. Ellie sure wasn't supposed to, but her genetic memory prevents her from that. Amongst the Goa'uld System Lords, a Harcesis child between two hosts are forbidden, but since Tok'ra are against taking unwilling hosts, there has not been such a case in Selmak's lifetime. Yet it unravels Jacob to think of the punishment.

While technically Sam is no longer a hostess and hadn't been one at the time of Ellie's conception – he asked Mark for her date of birth and had been shocked to realize that it clashed with some of her last SG missions – she still has the protein marker that makes her biological makeup unique to that of a host. To that of Jolinar. Which makes things so much more complex.

Why there has never been a Harcesis child of the Tok'ra is due to participants. The female host has to agree to bear a child, and the male host has to agree to father one. Then there is the agreement between the Tok'ra mates. Jacob doubts the council would allow a child to run around their tunnels unsupervised. However, the knowledge makes seclusion on one of their host planets impossible. Too hazardous, too risky. Because whoever fathered Ellie is definitely Tok'ra.

Stereotypical anger rises in Jacob; because of somebody knocking up his daughter; because of Sam never telling him, because of her quitting the Air Force.. frankly, there is only one thing that doesn't anger or saddens Jacob in this situation – Ellie.

Watching the trio play as siblings only deepens his sorrow. He knows that even with the combined efforts of the Tok'ra and Earth, it will be close to impossible to get back the Sam they know. The mother of Ellie, who hasn't been active in the Stargate Program for nearly four years. He knows that David and Lisa have known Ellie for years even though he has only become aware of her existence in the last week. He knows that his own children have lied to him, kept her from him, deep force majeure, because of his alliance to the Tok'ra (or at least he hopes that's why), although Mark has no idea why, probably assumed things about him. That is personal – do they doubt his actions as a grandfather? History is repeating itself. Mark ignored him for years, apparently Sam has been as well.

Lisa, the oldest, with her blonde hair and gumption, is quick to challenge her brother into doing reckless tasks that often – as proved – result in injuries. David is quick to forgive and forget his sister's bratty and teasing ways. The only boy, he manages to make up for it with his energy, rivaled only by Ellie who is intrigued by everything, versatile and audacious to the point of brilliance. When Lisa doesn't want to play anymore, finding the games too childish, David and Ellie effortlessly continue, their spirits never dimmed by Lisa's lack of enthusiasm and presence. Mark's white lie had been incorrect; surely, if Jacob had known better, he would never once have believed that Ellie was a friend of Lisa's, not David's.

Selmak makes the final decision – a devastating one. He returns to the SGC, never commenting on his reasons to contact the Tok'ra, letting the General assume that it is to check up on the scouts that surveil Ba'al. In truth, he has been taken off the case, forbidden by the Tok'ra to allow his feelings to cloud his judgment.

He hopes that whoever they send will have mercy on his situation.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope it's not too out of character.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Alright, I have five stories planned like this as a part of the series "Seize the Orbit" starring Sam and her daughter. There's one chapter left besides this one (I think), so enjoy this one!

Sorry about the delayed update. Since I got no reviews, my muse abandoned me. Also, I have one of my oral exams today (if that is what it's called in English). It was religion and I got an A by your standards (I think). Monday is my English exam, so I chose to write this chapter today. I'm not totally satisfied with Ba'al's lines, nor am I with Jack's, but I think I do the inner torture best. Some of what is mentioned is canon.

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of this franchise. Any ideas I have have surely been contemplated by writers of the show, then discarded.**

* * *

**Part five of Changing Priorities**

Things escalate quicker than Sam could have expected. Human, oppressed servants deliver a rather pretentious empress golden-threaded dress with silky sleeves minutes after Ba'al has departed. Its neckline and collar are typical of Egyptian mythology, the fabric soft between her fingertips, but its message renders her speechless. Undoubtedly are Ba'al's intentions to show SGC his control, his essence of power. His claim unto her body.

_This could be an opportunity, Sam, _Pakhet soothes, trying to prevent her from escaping the guarded compound. Sam, however, can only think of the reactions. Last time she remembers being on Earth was being dragged backward to the Stargate, her eyes on Jack O'Neill as she so desperately tried to fight back, but then she fell limp in Ba'al's arms.

Then why has he insisted on bringing you? Me? Us?, Sam argues, thinking this must be how going mad feels like.

_He revels in power_, the symbiote reminds her, _and he enjoys pain as were it his own pleasure. I have shown you his torture chambers, explained you the techniques._

A memory hits Sam dead-on, paralyzing her. It is brief – clearly Pakhet did not participate, only stopped by – but enough to inform her of the ways. Dreadfully, she recognizes one of many victims of Ba'al's methods: Jack. It has taken her years not to think of him as Colonel, but now, with the knowledge of Pakhet, she will never be able to look at him the same. He was tortured, here, or at least somewhere similarly built, by Ba'al with the gravitational technology and revived (to be killed again) by the sarcophagus. It feels like a physical blow to the solar plexus to admit it, to process the memory fully. She staggers back unto the bed, horrified.

_I am sorry. I kept it from you as soon as I realized once your memories blended with mine. I recognized him from your memories._

This was what he planned to do to me?, is all Sam can ask, forcing herself to replay the memory over and over, filling in the blanks with Pakhet's knowledge of Ba'al's methods.

_Yes_, Pakhet replies. _If not my previous host had fallen gravely ill, and Ba'al had not been forced to improvise, I believe he would have made you suffer the same fate – without the fortunate turnout of O'Neill._

In the back of her mind – or maybe Pakhet's mind – Sam has always known the possibility. Now where she knows what Ba'al did to the Colonel, is it foolish not to have seen it coming? Then again, when have things played in her favor lately? Apparently, it has. Pakhet could have been just another Goa'uld. Pakhet's host could have chosen (highly doubtful) another day to fail her. She could have been killed. All these possibilities – all these possible outcomes leave the consequences the same; they leave Ellie without a mother. Overcome with grief, Sam cannot keep their minds from fully blending no longer. Tearfully, she can feel the transfer of all that is Ellie; from her moment of birth, the good, the bad, the terrible, the wonderful, the casual, the playful.

She awaits Pakhet's sentiment wordlessly, trying to find a way to make things as they were before. The symbiote, however, remains silent, remains startled. Then slowly, her mind seems to probe hers, trying to find the words to express herself.

Finally, words form. _You left a child._

I left no-one, Sam says with the rage and defiance of a wronged kindergartener.

_You are a mother_, Pakhet rephrases, _yet you have managed to keep this from me._

I didn't know to trust. Ellie is everything I am. She is my reason to live, my reason to fight. Without her, I would be a number in a computer, a person in billions, Sam admits snottily, feeling tears sprawl her cheeks.

_Your love is stronger_, Pakhet says without comparing it. _Her name is Ellie? _the symbiote asks delightfully as a gleeful girlfriend. She makes it sound so simple; as if they were lost-long friends. Sam wonders how many of her feelings were transferred to Pakhet. Is she feeling the same amount of loss, of hope, of love? Or just imprints, like the ones Jolinar left her?

_Elara_, Sam informs her with the slight hope that she will not be harmed.

_You are afraid she will not be tended properly to because you are no longer with her_, the Goa'uld states.

No! Sam exclaims, then realizes the statement in Pakhet's words. 'Or, yes; I guess so. I _know _she will be cared for, but who will tell her what happened to me?

_You are afraid to be forgotten_, Pakhet states; Sam has to admit, the symbiote has been a better therapist than any human she has met in her life. Then again, she is practically a lie detector.

Yes, I am. I am afraid that Ellie will live a life without a mother, without a father. Mark and Julie are great parents, but who will explain it all to Ellie when she grows older? They do not even know.

_Your daughter. She is no ordinary Tau'ri child, but one of hosts._

Sam rebounces, defiance ebbing in her. She forces her tears back, not answering the question that is a statement. Her silence is evidently enough of an answer to Pakhet who reads her mind with such ease and skill. Without further discussion or conversation, Pakhet begins to dress herself knowingly in the templar clothes. As expected, the golden fabric feels soft against her skin, and she realizes she has lost what little decency and modesty she had left towards Pakhet.

As complicated as it sounds, Sam has managed to find a way to ignore the symbiote, shunning her briefly as she contemplates her options. Strapping the golden sandals on and readjusting the neck of the dress so it falls even in the hem, she finds herself glancing at the ribbon device which she fails to operate although Pakhet does it so naturally, having been passed down genetically to her. Although Sam can access those memories, she cannot truly use it. Then, she wonders, is that how Ellie feels each time she draws something that Lantash passed down? Curious about its origins, but fascinated by its foreignness? Or scared and frustrated, never knowing what to expect next? She has never voiced the existence of Goa'ulds to her daughter, always postponed the conversation.

The kara'kesh lies abandoned, its silver gleam glinting in the sun. In the hands of a capable user, it is a deadly weapon to humans, Jaffa and Goa'ulds. Suddenly, a plan forms in their heads, a plan that Ba'al won't expect.

His only mistake is in believing that Pakhet and Sam have no partnership.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

SG-1 happens to be present when the gate is activated and a holographic message sent through by Ba'al. Newly reinstated due to differences of opinions, they simultaneously make a beeline for the control room, Jack O'Neill standing behind General Landry as the iris close at the lack of IDC. However, a hologram penetrate, flicking slightly as the image of an arrogant, robed Ba'al presents itself. Jack snickers, suppressing the urge to grab the nearest weapon, knowing it would do no good. He is still insomniac from their last encounter with the Goa'uld.

"_People of the Tau'ri_," the System Lord says with his distorted voice.

"Ba'al," Landry replies, his tone numb of feelings yet tainted with loathing. Hammond expressed his wish for them to find Carter soon when he went to Washington, leaving Landry in command of the SGC. Frankly it was a polite way of ordering him to do anything in his power to ensure it. Jack would have found it amusing any other given day; but now it is merely something he wants, too.

"General," Ba'al acknowledges with a semi-interested, semi-snort. He slips into the comfort of using the vocals of his host. "I am here to propose a trade." He smiles wickedly, flashing the smile at Jack briefly, too soon gone to determine whether or not it was intended.

"What do you want to trade?" Landry baits, speaking lightly. Jack doesn't have to look at the personnel to see the lack of diplomacy. Friends of theirs have been killed due to Ba'al's actions and several knows Sam on some level or another. Had it been anyone but Carter, Jack would have agreed to the diplomatic ways of bringing in an unbiased General, but this is Carter! One of the most brilliant, strategic soldiers he has ever worked with. If there is even a chance that she is alive, why waste time with politics when the opponent is the most dishonest entity in the entire galaxy.

"Information," he growls smugly, shooting his chin up. Jack feels his knuckles itch for the feel of a good brawl.

While General Landry and the holographic representative of Ba'al bounce back and forth, Jack has the time to think about the past weeks, knowing that Carter is no longer an option. Sure, they have sent for her in the past, but he has avoided her whenever she has been on-base, deliberately and not due to off-world missions and downtime. She is still the number one Earth astrophysicist when it comes to stargates, besides being brilliantly equipped for just about everything the galaxy throws at her. Ryan has done his best, but there are times when Jack has found himself in desperate need of having Carter around. The captain is too subordinate, never voicing his concern on ethical or scientific matters, only strategic. Nevertheless has Jack refused to allow a civilian scientist on SG-1; it wouldn't feel right, not even four years after the fact. They would, inevitably, fail the tasks he gave them, being compared to Carter needlessly.

Yes, he has gotten over her retirement with a certain amount of offense and a hidden resentment. He had imagined they'd serve together somewhat infinitely – that she'd always be there for him to yank her chain, for her to stop him when he grew too antagonizing (although Daniel presently manages that one fine), for her to save the world with her science and leave him outsmarted, outwitted and dumbfounded. Frankly had he tasted his own medicine when she quitted. He had retired once, twice, not thinking about his teammates at the time. When he suddenly had found himself Carterless, he had bitterly learnt a lesson about oxymorons and his own stubbornness. Finding appealing candidates for her job had proven a long and tiring affair. Hammond hadn't allowed him to remain a three-man unit for long. Downheartedly, he had started looking.

Jack is enough of a fool to admit his own mistake. Yes, he handled her retiring badly. He could have done more to remain a part of her life. For her to be welcome every time she arrived at SGC, like that day. He can't help but wonder that if she had been welcomed, she wouldn't have been alone and taken by Ba'al.

Honestly, he knows nothing about her life. Where does she live? What does she work with? Has she been a busy-body, gotten married, had kids? Surely he would have heard if she had. But nobody talks much about her around him for some reason. And he has analyzed every reason for her to hate him enough to retire from not only the SGC but the Air Force itself. Janet rarely elaborates, so that is out of the question. Daniel blamed him at first, but has accepted the fact (in fact, Jack suspects he didn't remember his grudge-holding at Jack when he was descended, but then they met with Carter and Hammond..).

He hopes he fakes it well (not really, he likes being the notorious rebel) and that he at least maintains the vision of some level of serenity. His only hope is being part of the teams that go to see Ba'al; diplomacy has never been his streak though. Behind him, Daniel, Teal'c and Sherwood sternly watch the dialogue between Landry and Ba'al, prompting him to keep up.

"_I believe you have already designated the planet, but you know my conditions,_" the hologram says with the same amount of godly arrogance that seems to envelop him these days.

"We do," Landry admits sullenly. The hologram fades until it is no more, laving behind a mess. Jack briefly wonders the conditions he referred to, appearing as ready as ever.

The General turns around, facing Jack in the process. Frankly, he doesn't look that surprised although he jumps when he nearly walks into the SG-1 leader. They have a staring match until Landry gives in, his words stern and testy. "This is not a revenge mission, Colonel."

"No, sir."

"I'm only considering this option because of Ba'al's demands and because cooperating, how ironic it may seem, will ultimately prove beneficial for Earth," he continues, keeping eye contact.

"I understand, sir."

Landry sighs, clearly dismayed at the idea of sending SG-1 into a sensitive, diplomatic matter. His eyes fall on Daniel, who sends him an assuring expression. He is obviously irked at bestowing this on Jack, who has pestered him for weeks to avenge Carter's fate. Nevertheless has Jack's record spoken volumes in the past, always ending up on terms necessary.

"SG-11 will accompany you to the planet once we have sent a M.A.L.P. through. Remember, this could go a long way for future relations," Landry reminds him.

"Sir, all due respect, but need I remind you that he's a Goa'uld?" Jack remarks, staring straight ahead, intentionally not meeting the general's eye.

"No, Colonel. That being said, expect an ambush."

The commanding officer of SG-11 turns out to be an admirer of Carter's work, which goes a long way as he is prepared to consider the possibility of information relevant to rescuing her being reachable. Major Rick Simmons is open-minded (although whether or not a result of his faring ways through the stargate is to be held accountable is questionable) and military, willing to give Jack the command. SG-11 is mixed air force personnel and marines, willing to do just about anything. Daniel and his SG-11 equivalent, a mediator by the name of Mia Hernandez, are already chatting busily, leaving the grunt work to the physical forces of SG-1 and SG-11.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

The planet is relatively uninhabited. There are clans remotely scattered across another continent than the one of the Stargate. Exotic wildlife belongs there, but the area of miles surrounding the wormhole device is deserted and swampy, truly abhorrent and therefore an odd meeting place for a pretentious bastard like Ba'al. The SG teams walk three miles to the place of meeting, a less smelly desert with wet sand (regular rain patterns, according to Hernandez) and clay-filled soil. Hernandez has been here before with another science team nearly two years ago, and she talks eagerly of the population, similar to the shavadai, but Jack suspects that only Daniel listens with the same enthusiasm. He trots next to Sherwood, whose P90 rests on his chest, strapped to his shoulder. If Jack didn't known better, he would describe Sherwood as being jumpy.

The terrain is tiresome, greyish brown sand stretching across it with an overcast sky. His sense of smell has dulled in the presence of the stale and yet moist weed. His combat boots feel heavy on his feet but he keeps going, reminding himself that this mission might be useful and fruitful. Even the voice in the back of his head can tell him that's optimistic thinking. A load of bull.

They arrive at the designated coordinates and take a break, scouting for Ba'al's arrival. The marines of SG-11 are taking cover in the hills nearby, taking any visible weapons with them. SG-1 and the remaining part of SG-11 remain, ready to welcome (lack of a worse word, Jack assures) the Goa'uld. He is once again reminded that he is only here as an observer, neither a negotiator nor an active part of this trade. He is here simply because of his seniority. And because he knows that Hammond knows he has to be here. _Has _to.

He doesn't know what to expect. It has been hard enough facing Ba'al in the past without showing incontrollable aggression. Now where he has seen damage done, now where she has been taken, where he has seen the angst in her eyes before her throat was brutally slit. The image still haunts his mind, but he _has to _believe she is still alive. Because if not, then he truly failed her. The alternative, however, is just as horrifying, having encountered Ba'al's methods first-hand.

With the stench of a primitive civilization and wild weed in his nostrils, he watches tensely as an al'kesh approaches their position. He kneels down, ready to fire or flee if needed. Remarkably, the al'kesh lands safely and meekly about half a mile from their location. The SG personnel exchange hand signals, some of SG-11 tracking down the landing grounds for the al'kesh. Jack remains, securing the location and making sure that Hernandez and Daniel are not screwing anything up or severely weakening their position.

Strategically speaking, the terrain has little advantage, the hills the only means of ambush, but of course, Ba'al needs no hiding when he so arrogantly arrives in a Goa'uld al'kesh. It makes Jack wonder, though, why Ba'al chose this planet for neutral trading grounds. It is not a Goa'uld populated world, nor is it under Goa'uld domination. It is a planet for simple people who, according to Hernandez, used to include the Stargate in their rituals but who have since relocated elsewhere, fear of the 'demonic' return. They still sacrifice to their nature gods, gods of thunder and rain, gods of harvest and hunt. Daniel mentions that they are much like the early Greeks in that fashion, but to be honest, Jack only needs to know that they are not Goa'uld friendly or allied, or to be involved the the negotiations. They live thousands of miles from their current location, the Stargate forgotten in their culture. Jack sends a sideways glance to Mia Hernandez.

She is civilian, educated in England but an American citizen. She has some Ph.d., although Jack cannot remember which to save his life. She is hispanic, her family from Mexico. Frankly, she looks too much like a model to be taken seriously, but Simmons assures him that she has proven her worth. Jack is unsure of that, seeing her ponytailed hair escalating down her back, dressed in khaki BDUs. Slender rims of her sunglasses reflect in the sun, her olive skin tanned. She is like a female, _hot _Daniel, and pleasing to look at until she proves her Danielness, opening her mouth and speaking of ancient cultures and proper negotiations. She keeps coming with examples from Earth, and it makes Jack uncomfortable and makes it clear that she has never fought in a war. All the traits he despises in Daniel (and secretly admires, like his intelligence and his patience), like his inadequacy to see only their perspective and to see rational logic and reason, always having to dissect and analyze everything, often complicating things further, Mia possesses too. Trotting in front of them makes him feel almost stupid, it's belittling. He is a man of action and this isn't a convention, but a rescue mission (in his mind). There is still the slight possibility that Ba'al will, unknowingly, lead them to where he keeps Sam.

SG-11 returns, signaling Ba'al is not too far behind, although Simmons pants by the time he reaches the crater of the valley of sand. He has already radioed in the ETA of Ba'al's small entourage. The wet sand is still heavy to run in, evidently. Jack makes sure Teal'c and Sherwood are on their marked spots just as he sees Ba'al approach.

Dressed in teal silk with glyphs and calligraphy Jack is sure Hernandez is already fascinated by, Ba'al walks like Ba'al do, with ego and pride and arrogance. What remains of his Jaffa (weakened by the rising Free Jaffa Nation) carry two boxes of Goa'uld design, most likely to be the goods although just as likely to be naquadah ark bombs. If Jack had to guess, he'd have to say the latter. However, he is startled by who also accompanies the jackass.

As they close in, he is certain of his estimate. He looks sideways to confirm that Daniel, too, is as surprised by the fact, his mouth agape, surprise written across his face. This is definitely not part of the plan, although he does have to admit, silk suits her.

Samantha Carter is someone he would have never dared to picture in a dress. Particularly not the very provocative one she is wearing. When she moves, the fabric looks like liquid gold. The fashion of which she moves is graceful, too. A gracefulness he has never noticed before. Her hair has been styled so differently from the neat, tight horsetail it was last time he saw her. Now it has been brushed so soft that it hangs straight down, obeying gravity on its own accord. The blonde strands are braided in with golden threads and it makes her seem so.. ethereal.

Of course, the truth and realization are worse than the divine sight. The fact that her eyes, calm and arrogant like Ba'al's, priorly electric blue like no other, are cold tells him all he needs to know to confirm the devastating truth. He does not dare to look at Daniel, afraid to see horror on his friend's face of yet another of his loved ones turned into a Goa'uld tool and host. This was not one of the possibilities they discussed. Jack can feel a soreness in his throat, a light swelling he has only felt when he was a boy, but he holds the tears back, knowing this is neither the place nor the company to be crying in. He must focus on the mission, which is, primarily, trading.

Ba'al's entourage reaches the final meeting place. Jack fights the urge to use his zat on Ba'al, knowing fully well it'll only do worse, but not caring one tiny bid. Relentlessly, he tries to establish eye contact with Sam, but is stonewalled. She stands four feet from Ba'al, her presence evoking an awe he has not felt before. Despite the overcast sky and weather, she does not look cold in her Egyptian templar clothes. This being said, he almost snickers when Ba'al begins to speak, using his distorted voice.

"Tau'ri," he chuckles friendly and welcoming, although his Jaffa are tense behind him. Clearly they are still loyal to this prick.

"Ba'al," Jack and Simmons say in unison, both exchanging glares afterwards. The Major doesn't seem satisfied with his behavior so far, but Jack sends him an expression that pulls rank. Colonel outs Major. "Fine weather, huh?"

Their gazes full upon Ba'al, who wickedly and cruelly reaches out to his companion's neck, caressing it with the tenderness of a lover. Jack winces mentally, his grip tightening. Only now does he see the thin line of scarring just below Carter's jaw. She doesn't flinch or move her gaze elsewhere when Ba'al touches her, complaint as ever, the gracefulness – if possible – mightier than before. "Indeed, Colonel. I must say," he retorts, highly amused by himself and the reactions he is getting, "I did not expect yours to be one of my company. I guess we cannot steer fate in our direction."

"You seem to be enjoying this way too much," Jack comments sourly, trying to take his eyes off Carter. It is clear that she is not Carter; Carter would have never accepted anyone treating her like that, but it bothers him to see her this submissive. So unCarter-istic, so to speak.

"Ah, yes, Pakhet, the Colonel knew your host," Ba'al says to his companion, who listens patiently to his words as if were Ba'al a lifelong lover who had never wronged her.

Daniel whispers something behind him; probably the origin of this Pakhet character (Jack is clueless), but it doesn't distract him from seeing her eyes glow, or the provoking tilt of her shoulder as she saunters forward like a lioness. So not Carter's typical mannerisms.

"_O'Neill of the Tau'ri_," she laughs, her voice the exact match of when Jolinar spoke through her those years ago. Jack had hoped never to hear that twang again. When she reaches for him, then reconsiders and spins around, he sees her very naked shoulder blades. Frankly, this is the most he has seen of Carter... ever.

Her hand, extended for him to (what?.. shake?), its wrist decorated with the hand device, the silver metal snaking up her forearm like a serpent, the gemstone not aglow in its current state of inactiveness. He takes it all in, along with the bitter confirmation that there are no Samantha Carter behind those electric blue orbs. She would never dare him like this, never tempt him. Never be able to hold the mask for so long. It seems like a cruel joke from fate. She resigned, doesn't that count? Apparently, nothing counts in the world of Ba'al, ever the opportunist.

Pakhet steps back, once again a pawn in Ba'al so strategically planned game. Jack has always despised the bastard, but now he feels true hatred. Carter is off-limits, always has been in his mind. He knows, by Pakhet's actions, that he has failed his friend – if he is even allowed to call himself friend now. A sour and bitter taste rises in Jack's throat.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Sam lets Pakhet take fully over. She doesn't want to be conscious for this, but has to watch the look of spite on Jack's face once Pakhet saunters to him, baiting him with a gracefulness Sam has never mastered and always envied other girls. Part of her wishes that this was all different. Different in the fashion that she'd be able to call the bluff and call "had you!" This is, however, not the case.

It is with nausea she watches the utter hatred and disbelief in the Colonel's features. Behind his eyes there rests something more, though, sadness. Damnation. She has always believed him to be a wounded soul, broken by the death of his son and his unintentional place in the act. He has mourned Charlie, and healed, but never forgiven himself for playing the part that eventually lead to his son's demise. Knowing the love of a parent and the bond between her and Ellie, Sam can relate. She would never forgive herself for her own clumsiness and carelessness if Ellie suffered the same fate as Charlie O'Neill. However, she can't even begin to think how Sara must have felt, knowing her husband's gun was the death of her child. No parent should have to bury their child.

She feels the weight of the kara'kesh as Pakhet stretches her arm, offering it seductively to Jack before spinning around and stepping back to her original place behind Ba'al. Her silky voice speaks to them, but it is Pakhet who chooses the words far more politely and slippery than Sam would have ever been able to. In high school, college and the academy, she was never the girl where flirting came easily. With Pakhet, it is like a second skin, a second nature to fall back on in case of emergency. Flirtatious, wise, stubborn and graceful. It sounds like an odd definition, but it describes the essence of Pakhet. Submissive being the fifth, although it can be debated whether or not she is not rebellious instead. Her tentative nature – it sounds so foolish to describe her as both flirtatious and tentative, but it is true – makes her wisely consider her possibilities before acting rashly on emotions. One out of hundreds of Goa'uld who actually thinks above their own sense of pride.

It is kind of odd, their kind of two-man team. Pakhet distracts Ba'al by doing exactly as she is told, exactly as he expects, while Sam secretly carries out their plan. It took her longer than she ought to to reconfigure the kara'kesh, especially with the little items available, but she is pretty sure it will work. Now she only has to watch the looks of disgust pointed her way. She avoids looking at Daniel, knowing her heart will break once she sees the look of recognition and pain, a reminder of the fate of Sha're.

It has been weeks but it feels like years since she has laid eyes on her friends, and yet she will have to deceive them, make them mistrust her purposefully. She knows that she will never have their forgiveness if she tells the truth. The truth rarely sets you free. And are they even friends anymore? Has she not isolated herself from everybody even remotely associated with Stargate Command? Has she not shunned them? Add deception to that list and she will probably never see a smile or remain friendly with them again. That is the price of loving Ellie; keeping her former friends and beloved ones at arm's length. The price of keeping Ellie safe and away, concealed from the rest of the galaxy because of the truths and knowledge she possesses. When she looks back, it is not a hard choice. But once she sees the amount of care in Jack's eyes – Jack who rarely shows affections – she cannot help but doubt her actions.

Was she really right to decide to exclude her former team members four years ago? A little longer, seeing as Ellie turns four in February. She was two months in her pregnancy when she rode the elevator of Cheyenne Mountain for the last time as an air force officer. Since then she has taken several trips, but never spoken to anyone from her former life. Never shared her experiences with her scientist colleagues, always stayed under the radar, so to speak. No, she decided four years ago that her teammates couldn't keep her secret without involving the SGC, couldn't keep themselves from passing judgments. Perhaps because she couldn't even do the last part herself. There is nothing as bitter as regret.

She blends her mind with Pakhet once she has cleared it off all the emotions. Pakhet doesn't need anything to break her facade – the one that is going to make this plan work. She watches, like a presence in the back of Pakhet's mind, and awaits her chance at freedom, the haunting image of her former teammates evoking guilt in her.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Jack O'Neill prides himself with the amount of patience he is currently showing. Daniel, Hernandez and Simmons are discussing trade, seemingly having decided that he is too much of a mouth to be the one leading the negotiations. But Jack can't stop himself from staring at Pakhet and her coldness. Constantly he reminds himself that the person in front of him is not Sam Carter. He cannot even claim to know the ghost she now is. He now knows how Daniel felt when Osiris took Sarah, or when Amaunet took Sha're. Never before has he looked at a person he cares so much for, who has felt so little, and have himself be troubled by it. Of course he has suffered from heartbreak in the past when he was younger, having been in love without requisition. This is not the same. He is not sure that he loves Carter or is in love with her – for crying out loud, they've been separated for years! However, there has always been that linger of possibility. He has already admitted that he cares for her, more than he was supposed to at the time.

Distracting himself from the truth with strategic plans, Jack notices how both Goa'ulds are wearing hand devices, insuring them a personal shield. He is no technological wonder, so he doesn't know how to disarm them, but he knows that some frequencies could possibly disrupt them. Sadly, Carter is on the wrong side of the game. Diplomacies have never been his strong suit.

Suddenly, action occurs. Ba'al stands taller than Hernandez, who are nevertheless negotiating with the strength of a bull, and has his back to Pakhet, whose eyes gleam dangerously seconds before she clasps her own wrist, making the gemstone glow a vindictive red as she steps forward with the trained movements of Carter. An alarm goes off in Jack's mind, but he can only watch as Pakhet – or Sam – turns on Ba'al, activating her own hand device which obviously breaks through his personal shield (that activates seemingly on its own, judging on Ba'al's surprised expression) and begins doing the x-ray scan thingy – as Jack has so cleverly dubbed it in his mind, but what technicians and scientists in the SGC has described as a neural beam used for torture and killing – to the obvious pain of Ba'al and his host. He makes a mixture of a growl and a scream, pain evidently flowing through him before he drops he his knees. The Jaffa grab Sam from behind, but then she directs the kinetic beam towards them, sending them flying back, clearly bruised.

Then the blonde turns her head against the SG teams, who have their concealed weapons out, her pleading expression telling them everything. With a Goa'uld's voice, she speaks, her hands raised in a surrender gesture: "_I have a message from Sam_."

The familiar sound of a zatniktel firing an electric beam comes naturally to Jack's ears.

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Your honest opinion (or I'll have to judge by the lack of reviews for the previous chapter) **What do you think of Pakhet? It's important :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! I feel loved! Ha-ha. As for the reviews, I imagine Pakhet being a sort-of Egeria. Despite the selfishness of the Goa'uld, who I, admittedly, am redefining, there must be some bonds between symbiotes possible, not the same as Jolinar and Lantash, but in the way that they are so used to sticking by each other. That is why Pakhet has not left Ba'al (although it may also be attributed to a sense of fear of death), but Sam's influence, granted by the fact that she is too weak to suppress a host, is changing her and encouraging her much the way Jack O'Neill influenced Kanan, the Tok'ra he was shortly blended with.

I'm sorry about the late update. As y'all know, I had my English exam today. You're now looking at (maybe not, then reading the works of) the recipient of a proud A.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely related to the Stargate franchise.**

* * *

**Part six of Changing Priorities**

Sam drops like a rag doll the moment she is hit by the zat, despite being infested with a Goa'uld. Jack and Daniel rush to her side while the marines try to follow the fleeing Ba'al and his Jaffa. The blonde lies unceremonious in the wet sand, the detailed and embroiled dress soiled with the smelly sand. Upon hearing the arming of a zat, Jack backs off, seeing Teal'c with a loaded zatniktel pointed at Sam.

"The symbiote may still act hostile, ColonelO'Neill," he informs them somewhat dispassionately (although emotion clouds his eyes, confusion merely one of them, but his soldier exterior holding him back), Jack more reassured than Daniel, who stands openly confused. Hernandez has acted oppositely of her equivalent, backed off in fear, jerked away from the group and the state of sudden change. When it soon appears that Sam and the symbiote will not regain consciousness, they gently yank the hand device off her wrist, disarming her in the process. Once SG-11 returns, they make a makeshift stretcher out of what's available, deciding on taking Sam back. Simmons radioes in while Teal'c and one of the marines start by carrying Carter. Now where she is no longer conscious, Jack recognizes _her_. The vulnerability she never lets anyone see just because she is a woman. The stubbornness, the attitude. Even a small amount of scientist pride and arrogance. Now she looks fragile, even in the clothes of a god. Goddess, whatever. He hadn't hoped for this kind of luck. Because sheer luck it was that she decided to whack Ba'al. Now she – symbiote and what's left of Carter – will have to face the consequences.

And Jack just knows that he isn't going to be neither satisfied nor happy about the results. He is not even sure what his own feelings are on this matter, or if there is even a Carter to be returned. Therefore it is with an unsettling, ambiguous victory and sadness he approaches the gate. He is not sure what he would have done if he were in Simmons' position. Hell, he is not even sure how to put this into words in his report. Civilized isn't exactly what the many contradictory emotions tell him to be.

It doesn't even occur to him why the personal shield didn't absorb the zat blast.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Alaric considers himself a prudent member of the Tok'ra. Discardable, yes, even dispensable. He values each mission and the trust placed upon him to return successful. That is not always the case, he is aware, but he is with his flaws, his sense of pride being one of them.

While not a member of the High Council, he is still often consulted when it comes to missions of subterfuge. He is, as all Tok'ra are, willing to give his life for the cause, fighting the Goa'uld at every possibility. His companion often tells him to calm down and quieten, but most find Alaric likable and his rashness simply an effect of the company he keeps. That has always made him smile. He is nothing out of the ordinary, not overly so. His skin is tanned by hard labour in the sun, but with a glow of spirit. His ayes are a faded green like musty leaves, his chin not completely barren from a scruffy beard. He has been told he looks kind, but also fierce when that gleam of aggression mars his features. Looks can be deceiving and contradictory.

Alaric doesn't usually object when people ask favors. This time, his companion demanded that he go, so Alaric obeyed his friend's wishes. It is a strange, new world, a mission completely unlike the others he has had in his short time. Dangerous missions seem to be of abundance among the Tok'ra. He knows he does not have the patience of other, more wise members, nor does he share the seamless calmness that is required for treaty negotiations. He knows better than to think this is out of anything but convenience, but he obeys his friend's wishes anyways, curious and obediently so.

It unsettles him that there are already three operatives on the Tau'ri homeworld, but not enough for him to question this outspokenly, instead sending a brief, silent exchange of gazes to Callista, the ranking member of this expedition (so it seems, he waspishly notes). She does not elaborate further, eyeing the security cameras of the room they have been granted. Although it would be preferred, this matter is far too important and time-demanding to gate off-world and return. Appearances might have changed in the time passed between informing the High Council, so they are awaiting a representative once they have debated further on who may report to them. They all dread it, Selmak in particular, who is unusually quiet for someone so frequently involved with the decisions of the Tok'ra High Council. Alaric does not often spend time with Selmak, nor his host, Jacob, but they are acquainted. This only serves as a barrier in this case.

"Why have I been called forth?" Alaric asks with as much patience and politeness he can muster. The question is a decent one. He needs to know his mission and his place, not merely the situation, which has changed dramatically as far as his friend was able to tell him.

"There is a more delicate matter to attend to, but we thought it best if you be consulted, as your mission is affected by ours," the Tok'ra symbiote says. Alaric has noticed, in the few conversation he has had with the pair, that her host, Rhina, is a very private and shy person, who rebelled against a minor Goa'uld by sabotaging his shipments. Ultimately it was what got her husband and loved ones killed despite being so youthful of appearance. She is an artist. Callista is very dominant, but it also serves as a protection of her fragile hostess. Her decision-making is both admired and loathed by Tok'ra, but ultimately she gets the job done with little collateral damage. Rhina is not one to dismay her, a fact that is causing quite a stir on the Tok'ra base, being almost a slave to her requests. Perhaps they attribute it to Rhina being so shy, allowing Callista to be the enforcer.

His chin shoots up in curiosity, his eyes ablaze with a sudden urge to know. It is a quality uncalled for. "How so?"

"As you must be aware, Samantha Carter is being brought back to the Tau'ri as we speak. I have been granted permission to brief you," Callista says, hiding a certain dismay for not being chosen. It is not resentment, merely a professional jealousy at being passed over, clearly finding herself better suited at the task given to Alaric. Her eyes slide over his body before she continues, her shoulders tense. Her heels click against the smooth floor, so different from sand dunes.

"My honor, but what is happening? Certainly the Tau'ri are being kept from this meeting."

"This does not concern the Tau'ri," Callista fires, then halts, features frozen and steps back, alerted. Surprisingly, Rhina takes over, her body language fidgety and gaze everywhere. "I'm sorry, Alaric," she stammers, unintentionally cute at the time being. "As you know, or maybe you don't," she quickly adds, "but Callista's mate was amongst those killed on Apophis' ships years ago. She has not dealt with the bitterness yet. I felt illy chosen for this task, given her bias on the matter of the Tau'ri."

"I appreciate your honesty, Rhina. It is good to see you emerge," he says, then focuses on Selmak as Callista resurfaces, clearly reprimanding Rhina in her mind. "Selmak."

"Yes," the symbiote greets, clarifying the identity. He seems conflicted, but has chosen the deep Goa'uld voice to make certain that there is no confusion on who is speaking.

"You seem to hide something. Are you not content now where the daughter of your host has returned?" he questions with human empathy.

"I am doing my best to contain the rapid and thrilled emotions of Jacob, Alaric, but for the first time in centuries, I do not think my opinion matters," Selmak states, somewhat surprised; Alaric was right, he is troubled.

"The fate of Samantha," Alaric supplies, seeing the flash of emotion across Selmak's face as he nods.

Callista returns to the conversation. "Fact remains. You are to speak with Samantha and evaluate her state of mind while our mission is to evaluate the unfortunate events that have occurred right under our noses."

"How so?" Alaric asks, not completely sure that events are as unrelated as Callista makes them seem.

This time, Selmak and Callista exchange thoughtful gazes before Callista opens her mouth to speak. "There is a Harcesis child on Earth."

Momentarily taken aback, Alaric gasps soundlessly. A few years back, given the knowledge he has now, he would have gasped. Then again, every emotion is more contained amongst the Tok'ra, except the fiery anger that burns towards the system lords. A Harcesis child is rare because it is forbidden eternally between Goa'ulds. A constant threat with DNA much like their prey, the humans of the galaxy. Incredibly bold to hide something so hunted, so coveted in a sense, on Earth. They will have to swiftly confront the problem without putting the alliance with the Tau'ri in jeopardy. Delicate matters indeed.

"What is your course of action?" he asks, eyeing the two, now seeing why they look so suspiciously guilty. He can, however, only mildly see how this is related to his interrogation of Samantha Carter's Goa'uld.

"Informing the High Council and negotiate for the child's transfer to our current base. If not, we must resort to other ways of persuasion. The child must be evacuated either way," Callista says notably dispassionate. Alaric nods, knowing it is not his place, nor mission, to question her and Selmak's doing, but nevertheless satisfied to have been informed.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Getting hit by a zatniktel is always painful but not always ensuring unconsciousness. Once SG teams 1 and 11 have returned through the gate after a frantic radio transmission, bringing – to everyone's shock – an unconscious Major Samantha Carter, everything seems abuzz. Marines, their weapons on the woman constantly, are joined by SFs to ensure nothing goes wrong, should she stir. Hammond is confused at first, even finding the way aggressive but once he is briefed rather briefly by Mia Hernandez, who happens to look so pale that he orders her to the infirmary, Hammond understands the situation vaguely.

Samantha is alive, but infested with a Goa'uld who acted rashly during the negotiations, turning on Ba'al. Why she did it, how she did it and what she plans next are all questions that are now his responsibility. Dr Fraiser, alarmed and equally shocked by her former friend's sudden arrival – and of the state she is in – quickly reforms to her professional stealth and an excellent, unbiased medial doctor resurfaces, untinged by the former friendship and delicate political position.

What matters to her is the state of the person brought back, BDUs or not, and how to improve it. Hammond respects that, even admires her ability to perform jobs far beyond any human doctor on Earth and remain as compassionate towards alien, possibly threatening lifeforms, but her pangs of humanity is what keeps the integrity of the SGC. Years of militant service has made that fade in most leaders, but the authority of Dr Janet Fraiser is enough to make Stargate Command spellbinding as an organism, despite it being controlled by U.S. Air Force and budgeted by a government tightening its leash.

Once Fraiser has performed her initial examination and sedated both Sam and the symbiote, Hammond orders a team of SFs and marines to wheel the gurney to a holding cell. Fraiser protests verbally, but has no answer when he asks her if medical attention is immediately required. While clearly not satisfied, she has no right or reason to outrank him on this matter and must sourly retreat to the infirmary for the lab tests of Sam's blood. On no occasion does Sam stir or awaken, yet Hammond – and surely the rest of SG-1 – is filled with a sense of (not anxiety) but approaching disaster. Unsettlement. His mind goes nearly six years back in time to the Jolinar incident; back when he was the commander of the SGC and not merely some pain in the butt of the current general.

The briefing, however, is more chaotically challenging than handleable. Everything went according to plan, both team leaders acknowledge that, until Ba'al showed up, Sam – or whoever – in tow.

"Pakhet," Daniel supplies, stressing the word with an accent that seems to come natural to him after all these years. "Egyptian goddess of ferocity and femininity, patron of inner strength."

"Well, none of us saw it coming," Jack replies snarky.

"Is that true?" Hammond asks Major Simmons, knowing how Jack can spin a story to his benefit. It is no secret that Jack has been looking for such an opportunity for weeks, be it a revenge mission or rescue mission. This delicate situation calls for a little bit of both.

The major nods. "She made no attempt to warn us of her plans, sir."

"And we're sure that it was not Sam who somehow overpowered the Goa'uld?"

"It would not appear so, GeneralHammond. I did not detect the typical fighting mannerisms of SamanthaCarter, and the symbiote did declare its intentions afterwards," Teal'c states, resuming his dispassionate voice and unreadable expression.

"It surrendered. It could all be a trap for all we know!" Jack is the first to say it, but it obviously pains him.

"I'm surprised at the action, though. Ba'al must have trusted Pakhet to bring her. Yet it referred to Sam in third person. Perhaps we may have inadvertently shot a Tok'ra?" Daniel suggests unsurely.

"The Tok'ra would have let us know if one of them took Sam as a host!" Jack protests.

"I agree with Colonel O'Neill, general," Teal'c says. "It is very unlikely that Samantha Carter was blended with a Tok'ra symbiote infiltrating Ba'al after her abduction."

"How do we proceed?" Hammond asks his flagship team. It has been weeks since Sam was taken, and they all know the brutality of Ba'al. They have never really considered that she would be back with a Goa'uld inside her. Compromised is one of their concerns. The mental instability is another.

"I think our best course of action would be informing the Tok'ra," Daniel Jackson suggests, glancing upon every member of the briefing, even his own team members, who are, to some degree, nodding their heads in agreement or declaring utter disbelief at his words. When Hammond encourages him to proceed, he speaks softly but determined. "Either way, they are better equipped at dealing with situations like these."

"Extracting the snake, sir," Jack supplies hastily, his intentions towards the symbiote, no matter how conveniently allied, obviously hostile and remaining so.

Daniel looks startled, but concurs. "We have to listen to what Pakhet might have to say before resorting to unwilling procedures, General."

Hammond nods. "Then we will contact the Tok'ra and await their representative."

"Er, sir, didn't Jacob arrive a week ago?"

"Yes, but due to the delicacy, I think it'd be best if someone unbiased towards Dr. Carter interrogates the goa'uld," Hammond declares, knowing how much his friend would do to be in the room with Pakhet and Sam; his restrain, however, is uncertain.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Pain is all relative when you have a Goa'uld healer within you, feeling it as its own.

Unfortunately, due to Pakhet's age, Sam groans once she feels herself awaking, her body unusually tense in this state, meaning that her companion for the past weeks is already awake. It always strikes Sam as weird, waking up to a body alert. Like always when Pakhet is in control, she sees the world through her own eyes, seeing Pakhet move as her. By now they are an extension of one another and it is all sorts of weird when Sam finds her companion, weakened by millennia of hosts and battling minds, actually suppressing her, reaching for control over her body. Worried, but knowing that they are in a locked cell and will not be in a position to escape (security measures installed and upgraded after the whole Jolinar incident) anytime soon, she allows Pakhet to be in control. Anxiety rises, though, as she tries to dissect the problem and Pakhet's possible solution. Have they exchanged one prison for another?

Standard-issue SGC holding quarters are what she is looking at. Dim-lit, grey walls, boring setting and a hard floor. It's odd that Pakhet hasn't move, surely feeling her sensation of discomfort at lying at the hard concrete floor.

Pakhet?, she asks, posing it as a question rather than an interrogative force.

A wave of annoyance directed at her overwhelms her, surprising her and catching her off guard. This isn't the plan, but the decision between them was to improvise once their initial strike worked.

Part of Sam knew all along that they would have never been escorted conscious through the stargate. It went against every protocol she'd ever known. Despite being a civilian for years, she shouldn't have forgotten that. If she has to be brutally honest, she didn't, she just hoped that the sincere expression and act of collective goal would be enough to convince whoever they sent. What she had not expected, however, was seeing SG-1 there, being forced to goa'uldize herself in front of Jack O'Neill.

Guilt sinks in on Sam's part, along with pride and hazy victory. Even if the symbiote is shutting herself off from Sam, the blonde host can still feel her inputs and emotional responds to her thoughts. Ever since revealing Ellie, she has been unable to truly hide something mentally from Pakhet. If she had been a human friend (something that only mildly disgusts the symbiote), Sam would have been certain she was offended or taking her time considering things and more importantly, her options. Their contradictory feelings are intermingling, causing Sam to feel helpless the next, then an almost egoistic pride; all followed by confusion the third. Even though she has been a host for weeks, blended with a benign Goa'uld, she still hasn't grown used to the duplicity of emotions between host and symbiote.

She watches as their body rise from the makeshift cot on the floor, noticing – Sam with thankfulness – that they have not been redressed in BDUs or a simpler outfit, but left with their original dress, which is becoming increasingly embarrassing to Sam. Had she been in control of her body – or lack thereof – she would have found her face reddening as she blushed. Pakhet rarely blushes. In fact, Sam is beginning to feel how distraught the symbiote is.

The room is spartanly equipped. A standard-issue security live feed from a corner-side camera is all evidence of civilization. She recognizes the holding cell and hopes vainly that they are still at the SGC and have not fallen into the hands of the NID or been stored at Area 51 as interesting research material. The gray walls promise little futuristic hope, but the chairs to the table-set have obviously been confiscated or deemed a danger. It looks like any clichéd interrogation room, sans the chairs, of course.

_There is no way out_, Pakhet finally admits, Sam having felt her restlessness and now the devastation of defeat.

Of course there is not. Besides, we're not escaping, Sam assures her unnecessarily harsh to her immediate regret. She must admit, she has treated Pakhet as a means rather than a goal in this capacity. This truly is a _what now? _Situation.

_This is not what we planned, Samantha. _

Yet you did foresee it, Sam points out. Pakhet gives no answer, sinking into her own private corner of their mingled minds. For the sake of the symbiote only, Sam retakes possession of their body, testing the walls for any shortcomings or weak spots even though she is a hundred percent certain that there are none.

Stubbornness is not becoming, she irritatedly growls at Pakhet.

_Yet it is your body who is unbecoming_, her ever-companion remarks somewhat flippantly. Despite their situation, Sam smiles. Pakhet manages to remain childishly so even after millennia. It is a wonder how she can look and sound so wise in light of this behavior and the severity of the Goa'uld and its System Lords. The young astrophysicist even suspects that she is influencing the symbiote more than first predicted. Pakhet is learning, too, this having been the first of willing hosts and of co-existing peacefully without suppression. Her first partnership aside from the weird deal with Ba'al that Sam is yet to understand. It is not the same as sibling rivalry (if something like that even exists between infant Goa'ulds of the same queen), but an almost honorable and noble act of friendship, of companionship. Sam has discreetly prodded Pakhet's mind for an answer to exactly how long they've been "together", but any history with Ba'al is ashamedly stored beyond her mental reach.

With nothing else to do, and Pakhet purposefully ignoring her like a sullen teenager, Sam is left to thrive on the success of the last-minute plan. She prides herself, and Pakhet, for it. Altering the kara'kesh had been much easier than operating it, as she had Pakhet as an interface, explaining in great details the purpose and technology of each function. All she had to do had been to adjust the tortuous beam – according to Pakhet, it had no official name in Goa'uld, but 'death ray' seemed a wee bit dramatic – so it would penetrate the personal shield of Ba'al. Had she delivered the technology to the System Lord himself, he would have rewarded her immensely, but now she could only picture the hatred upon Ba'al's face as he realized their plan. It fills her with a great sense of justice and pride, not all entirely her own.

_A apologize for being too weak to revolt against the zat'n'k'tel,_ the symbiote sullenly admits.

It's okay, Sam insists reluctantly, glancing upon the nondescript walls of the holding cell. She longs for the windy air, for the sun's rays upon her face and for the fresh scent of grass. She pales when she, too late, realizes that they are all desires of Pakhet; mutual desires.

Not for the first time she fears that the blending may have been permanent, but for the first time, accepting Pakhet as her new life partner.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Callista insists that Selmak must suppress Jacob for the time being if he is to be involved in the mission when she returns from the short-hand Council meeting. Rhina, her hostess of nearly a hundred years, fidgets mentally seconds before she informs the older Tok'ra of the decision of the High Council. Rhina, naturally shy, is a pleasant companion and supporter of the Tok'ra way, but this is the first sigh of discomfort Callista has ever felt from her host. It grieves her and fascinates her all the same. Their morals and ethics are bound to collide at some point, but Callista would have never expected this. Intrigued, she finds herself asking her hostess what is the cause of her discomfort and resulting disagreement.

_My people were a rural race. We valued young life, children, higher than anything. I merely sympathize with Selmak's conflicting emotions. Jacob has told you the location of his granddaughter. _

_So? _Callista asks almost lazily. She does not see Rhina's point.

_Families are tightly knitted. In my world, it would have been seen as betrayal, but you see this as an act of loyalty towards the Tok'ra? _Rhina shoots back, obviously confused.

_The child –, _Callista begins, but even in mind she is cut off by her host.

_Her name is Elara_, her host says softly and almost fondly of this creature she has never met.

_She is a danger to all Tok'ra. Amongst the Goa'uld System Lords, it is forbidden to conceive such a child. Imagine the damage done if someone were to get a hold of the information? Our alliance with the Tau'ri is delicate, our numbers spread thin. _

_Is it all intel to you, Callista? _Rhina asks honestly.

Taken aback by her wakeup-question, Callista does not answer immediately. She sees no reason to, but it nags her that words and the vehemence in them could strike her as forcefully as a physical blow. Her and Rhina ever rarely disagree, so this is unusual. After hundred years and a shared mind, topics tend to be exhausted thoroughly. When Rhina does not retreat, Callista listens until she verbalizes her thoughts.

_If the Tok'ra convinced the Tau'ri of getting custody of the Harcesis child, who in this case is the granddaughter of Selmak's host, what then? She is barely a handful of years old. Our tunnel base is no place for a child!_

Her defiant outburst, uncommon for her to the point of never-occurring, triggers a memory. At first it is nearly indistinguishable and Callista is unsure whose it is – it matters no more, as they act as one now, more often than not thinking as one – but then it clears. It originates from Rhina's perspective, but Callista has been told of it from her Tok'ra friends. It is from when they sought her a new host, seeing as her previous host had been failing her. Two members of the Tok'ra searched on planets new and familiar to send someone willing to become a Tok'ra host. The task had been difficult (still is) and walking a thin line of hiding and active search. One of the subjects taken into severe consideration during the conversation had been Rhina's desire to have children. The Tok'ra did not bear children, relationships and monogamous mateships rare but valued, albeit difficult to maintain. Rhina had agreed, sacrificing her personal wishes. This is the first time she has brought up that painful subject.

And in her mind, because it is in Callista's, Rhina knows what will be done to such a security threat once its intel has been extracted.

"_Is an official investigation being commenced?_" Selmak asks, but it sounds more like he demands. Callista knows him far too much to be offended by his words or feel slighted. As all cases of willing blending, hosts and symbiotes are influenced by one another. Jacob has made Selmak more humane. More emotional. It is both a disadvantage and an actual advantage, depending upon the situation and the societal rules of the worlds in question.

She looks at him almost confused. "_Towards what end?_"

"_The parentage of the child. Its lineage_," Selmak clarifies.

Callista halts, knowing it is a sensitive matter. Whereas it is certain, with a slight possibility of it being untrue, that Samantha Carter is the mother of the Harcesis by the name of Elara, there have been no clues as to who is the father. The technicalities are many, but the fact that she is a former host should not be enough to account for the amount of knowledge shown in this Tau'ri child. She has discussed the possible fathers with Selmak, who showed clear revulsion at the suggestion that the sire may be Goa'uld, begging the question about what Tok'ra could have fathered a child, even unknowingly passing on the knowledge of his lineage.

"_We have limited resources, and with this abrupt return of Samantha Carter, we are stretched thin, even on Tau'ri matters since we have been asked to assist… It complicates things,_" she admits.

"_Even so, there should be questions – seeing as this child recognized me and this host –._"

"_It could have been due to the mother's influences!_" Callista argues reasonably.

"Who would expose their kid to that, knowing what is out there!" Jacob asks harshly, resurfacing. Startled, Callista nevertheless recognizes the violent rage in his voice, identifying it with what remains of memories of wronged people with matters of children. Calmly, she tells the host to retreat, but he refuses.

"_Jacob_," she breathes, sensing his need to be comforted and reassured. She is not sure she is the right person to offer that, but there is nothing to do for Jacob. "_This is not the time, nor place for this sort of irascibility. I agree to some point that it may be possible that the sire is Tok'ra, but the Council would never admit that!_"

Realizing her own emotional stupor, Callista shamefully pauses. Long enough for Selmak to take emotional and physical control over Jacob and the body they both share and inhabit. However, what she said is true. Any investigation would be privately dealt with, preferably under the noses of the High Council to avoid losing another operative. What would be done was to be determined after confession and interrogation.

Calmly, Selmak speaks. "That is why Alaric is here, then?" he asks sagaciously. Callista gazes at him, never speaking but nevertheless answering.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Pakhet and Sam, the latter mentally, jerk their head up when they hear a key card being swiped and the low murmur of somebody talking to the SF guarded stationed at her door. Then the soft click of the door being unlocked, the doorknob softly pushed down. It seems so loud when the only thing they've heard for hours have been their own breathing patterns and their inner dialogues. Emotions and questions well up in Sam's mind, but Pakhet suppresses them, urging her to be patient. At that, Sam growls, this time sullenly at the suggestion.

She has not seen the man before. She is certain of that, and so is Pakhet. He is attractive though, in a common way. The calm gaze he possesses is the first thing they envy collectively, deciding that he knows more than he lets on. He is no stranger to interrogation techniques.

_At least they have not resorted to violence or torture_, Pakhet reminds the impatient Sam.

I don't like mind games, Sam reports.

_Our own battle of wills seem to entertain you enough_, the symbiote recalls, then freezes as she senses another Goa'uld in the room, the information being channeled to Sam without thought.

Upon knowing this, Sam inspects this man even closer. He wears the skins and clothes of the Tok'ra with some minor adjustments. His dark hair and day-old beard contradict themselves by the opposition of each other. What takes her aback are the green eyes, soft and beguiling. He does not look like a Goa'uld.

Sam can feel the light jolt in emotions as Pakhet gets this information. Excitement at finally meeting a Tok'ra, but containment, patience and unstoppable anxiousness and worry at being confined. She is edgy now, even though she manages to maintain a calm exterior. Frankly, Sam is amused at seeing her companion react this way, like a teenager at a rock concert with their idol. Never knowing, Sam doesn't even notice when Pakhet takes control, her eyes glowing, but in hindsight, sharing the information they do, even Sam is aware that they'd never assume her to be uncompromised. Never assume her to be in control, despite their hopes. Tears sting in her mind, showing nowhere in Pakhet's stance, and it is a small comfort. Locked safely behind the walls of Pakhet. Ironically so.

The man steps forward, waiting as Pakhet easily (and not sorely as Sam would have done after hours of sitting against a wall) stand up, eyes scanning the new presence unlike himself. Sated, she can only watch as two SFs bring in two chairs. She must have looked confused – even Pakhet does sometimes – because without question, the man answers.

"I thought it more pleasant to sit down during this conversation." The way he looks at her creeps Sam out, because he looks at her so familiarly, like he knows her but she swears she has never seen him before, and yet he acts as if he knows how she will. Pakhet lets none of that crack her image of stoicism.

They both sit down once the SFs have left the room. "I am Alaric of the Tok'ra," he introduces himself almost ignorantly so, like they're new neighbors and not potential enemies. He has that over-friendly look on his face. It unsettles Sam and mutually her and Pakhet decide that it is a wonder if he has survived long with the Tok'ra with this kind of behavior. Stealthy he is not.

He bows his head, not in respect but in the manner that Sam is not surprised – and by extension, neither is Pakhet, – when he speaks in the voice of the symbiote.

"_I apologize for my lack of introduction. Do you not recognize me, Samantha?_"

"_She does not_," Pakhet says, not concealing herself. "_And neither do I, Tok'ra._"

"_I am Lantash._"

* * *

**A/N: Didn't see that one coming, did ya? **This started out as a fanfic about Ellie, but my muse turned it into a suspenseful (you tell me) drama that involved Carter getting infested with another symbiote. And here we are, nearing the end without doing that it was all about: reuniting SG-1 with the element of surprise being Ellie. Well, nothing is truly as simple as that in the SGC.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thank for all the great reviews! Even the slightest response is enough to encourage me. There are a lot of breaks and changing POVs in this part, but I thought it was the proper thing to do. I am not totally satisfied with the reunion, but it seemed the only logical way not to drag this out too long. If you can imagine it, that's awesome. Then again, count in the year-long separation and the fact that Sam must've picked up some maternal instincts. What I mean is, I hope you like it, but keep in mind this is a huge leap from canon.

Wow, I gotta stop defending my work and just accept it.

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to the Stargate franchise nor do I take any credit for the characters.**

* * *

**Part seven of Changing Priorities **

Mark is very against this; Ellie to be taken away from him – it's breaking his promise to his sister, one that he made on a January night nearly four years ago when his niece was born. In truth, he had been sworn to secrecy long before, once his little sister showed up on his doorstep in the middle of her first pregnancy. Sworn never to tell their father about Ellie, but fate had different plans when his father showed up last week, not believing their cover story one bit. Looking at the small, gentle creature that is Ellie, Mark realizes his mistake – and Sam's – to think that she couldn't have been family. She has the same face, those curious eyes albeit another hue of blue, like her mother's. Coincidences happen, that Mark is a firm believer of.

He has discussed this with Julie, who has shown great worry for Sam's well-being. It has been weeks and they haven't heard from her. Had it been before Ellie, he wouldn't have bothered worrying, but since she had Ellie, everything in her has become more reliant, as if she finally decided to grow out of her harebrained, eager experiments. She has settled down now, realizing how dependent her daughter is of her. That was why he was so surprised when she told him she had resigned from the Air Force.

Even hating the idea of his sister becoming another Jacob, he had been appalled to realize Sam was letting it all behind. There was a certain sadness in her eyes, but as always, an eagerness to start a new project. And now where he has seen it, he cannot imagine doubting Sam's parenting skills.

Ellie is a gift. Curious, intelligent and a wonder. In many ways, she is exactly like Sam was as a child. In equally many ways, she is the direct opposite. If Mark had known her father or met him, he would have been able to assess if she is like her father, but Sam has never, ever told him even cryptically who is Ellie's father. Content with babysitting the wonder that is her, Mark has accepted his sister's reluctance.

Now their father is softly demanding that he and Ellie spend some quality time together. Seeing as Sam has been gone, and Jacob is now offering to go to the base she works on, Mark is a bit hesitant. He knows that his father will never do anything to harm Ellie, having seen them interact the last couple of days (Ellie always appreciates extra attention). It is like he is seeing an entirely different part of Jacob Carter, a softer side that Ellie is bringing out in him. He is equally intrigued and reluctant. He has the same connection with Davy and Liz, but with Ellie there is a whole world of understanding. They are already confidants. Mark tells himself it's due to her young age, not favoritism among his grandchildren. Liz and Davy have learnt to live without him while Ellie is only getting to know the world, being relatively isolated from strangers. Whether it's due to parental overcautiousness or merely an alternative form of upbringing from Sam's side is lost on Mark.

"It'll only be for a day," Jacob assures him.

"Well, it _would _be a chance for Julie to go into office," Mark supposes, seeing no harm done in allowing Jacob to spend some time with his granddaughter.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

The soft-spoken letters that make his name fall from Samantha's lips, her expression equally emotionally surprised. His heart stops for a nanosecond, emotion rising, because the only time he has heard that softness of another is from Jolinar, or when Samantha spoke Martouf's name. The memory of his death sends a course a grief through him, but he remains focused.

He studies the small features that he has not seen since that fateful day years ago. There is pain there, not as raw as last time, though, and he is not certain if it's from remembering mutual grief or new burdens on her soul. He remembers the delicacy Martouf treated Samantha with, where Lantash only saw strength and beauty. They both saw the flesh, but also the brilliance. Samantha is different from the other Tau'ri, but also haunted by her experience with their mate. To see her broken again by the brutality of being taken as host is beyond devastating. But, from what he has been briefed with (seeing the sour expression of Colonel O'Neill), they – unsure if it is host or symbiote – rebelled against Ba'al, who is gaining a powerful hold over the galaxy.

Either way, it is reason for the Tok'ra to get involved.

"Who am I speaking with?" he asks stoically, willing himself to keep his emotions in check. Alaric is feistier than Martouf, but it is still he who keeps Lantash's temper in check. This interrogation, however, has to be done by Lantash. Alaric doesn't even know of their history.

"_My name is Pakhet_," she says with the distorted voice of a Goa'uld. Lantash has to keep himself from showing weakness and flinching; but has he not countless times dreamed of Jolinar speaking through Samantha? "_And I will you no harm, Lantash of the Tok'ra._" She pauses, then chuckles. "_My host knows you, but not your host. Do you wish to speak with her?_"

The request is startling at best. She seems utterly cooperative and it makes both Lantash and Alaric suspicious. "_Yes, I would like to._"

She blinks and then humanity morphs into Samantha's features. She does not seem distraught at getting control, merely breathes and looks at Lantash. "Lantash," she repeats, emotion marring the word.

"_Samantha. It has been too long_," he says, glad that she is okay. "_Are you alright?_"

"Yes, of course. I mean..," she pauses. "All things considered. I have missed you."

_And I you_, Lantash thinks, but does not say it out loud, keeping in mind his task. "_If you don't mind me asking, how did this happen?_"

A look of discomfort flashes on Samantha's face as she tucks a long, golden hair behind her ear. He smiles genuinely at the small gesture, but his features darken as he realizes the journey to this end has not been pleasant.

"I was taken.. I can't remember much, but Pakhet has filled in the blanks. I awoke, hurt but not dead and fainted within minutes. When I awoke again, Pakhet was there," Samantha hoarsely tells with an emotion on her face that Lantash cannot identify. Martouf might have. A mix of pain, gratitude and overwhelming. "She offered me a chance. A partnership."

Upon seeing Lantash's confused expression, she smiles palely, then proceeds to explain the oddity. "Pakhet has been Ba'al's companion for centuries, if not millennia. Not a mate, but bound by an attachment. Ba'al trusted Pakhet, but her previous host was failing her rapidly and when I arrived, I was used as a host. Pakhet is too weak, too old to suppress a consciousness, so she offered a partnership and told me of her hidden goal; to destroy Ba'al with him remaining clueless. Then came the opportunity."

She almost looks saddened, but Lantash is still processing the information. Goa'ulds reforming are rare, but heard of. His Jolinar was one, Garshaw another. Not all Tok'ra have been spawned from Egeria, who is a perfect example herself. However, since the Tanith incident there have been mistrust towards the recently joined. Samantha does not seem upset with having Pakhet, which intrigues him.

"Pakhet wishes to speak with you," Samantha says softly. "She wishes to join the Tok'ra."

Having absorbed the memory at some point from Samantha, the symbiote comes forth, flashing her eyes as she does so. Lantash muses shortly that Samantha always did manage to surprise him with her tendencies.

"_Samantha made the readjustments for the kara'kesh, making it able to bypass the personal shield. I am sure your scientists are analyzing it as we speak_," Pakhet says calmly, massaging her wrists. "_And, as for the unfortunate blending, I did my best to ensure that Sam would not be suppressed. I __no longer possess the will nor the intention to do so in a host. I am millennia old, Lantash. All I wish is to see Ba'al's downfall before I die._"

"_Then you do not mind verifying the circumstances Samantha just described?_" Lantash asks.

In great details, Lantash is let in on the last few weeks, the points of view changing as rapidly as host and symbiote are able. Lantash is secretly relieved that it is true that Pakhet is a mere companion to Ba'al and no consort. He has become quite attached and protective of Samantha, despite their four-year seclusion. Pakhet does not seem reluctant to share information or intel, seemingly trusting Samantha's feelings towards him. It eases him greatly, even though Alaric is confused by the regular waves of emotion.

"_This intel will prove very useful, I am certain, Pakhet, and I think your intentions are noble, but there are the matter of your new host. She is an asset of the Tau'ri, and I am convinced that only my word keep them from extracting you forcefully._"

Samantha's face saddens. Pakhet looks down, currently in control, almost shamefully. "_I know. I came back willingly because of the more personal matter. Samantha has only recently let me in on a very private matter. I cannot keep her emotions from surfacing and I would not ask her to separate herself from her child_."

Lantash gasps mentally, never showing surprise physically. With years of practice, it is not hard. Last time they spoke, moments before Samantha was forced to kill Martouf – an act he is certain she regrets – she informed Martouf of her state of pregnancy. Truth be told, Lantash had been infuriated, overwhelmed and fascinated all the same. The remote chance of him fathering a child had not worried him at their time on Elaria, the bedouin world he and Martouf had taken her to. Although he suppressed himself at the time, he remembers the touches shared between Samantha and Martouf, the raw emotions manifesting themselves physically, leading to an intimate night in a tent, breeze and warmed sand mixing with hot breaths and kisses. They had not taken her to Elaria with ulterior motives; it had been a nice gesture, thought of by Martouf, who had sensed Samantha's discomfort at the open ways of the Tok'ra and the lack of privacy. Even Lantash, who was never a wooing kind of entity, had found the ride on the desert creatures soothing and enjoyed the way Samantha had leant her body against Martouf's chest.

The thought of a child fills him with a sorrow, knowing the imprint of fatherly pride that is amongst the remnants of Martouf. He has never thought of children the way the Tau'ri and other humans of the galaxy do; most Tok'ra forget the concept and hosts forfeit the option once they join the Tok'ra because of the inadequate base, the constant fear and deception, the compromising situation of security threats in a young child carrying the knowledge of an entire lineage.

Now greatly aware of the recording device in the corner of the room, Lantash focuses himself on Samantha, who has obviously been granted control. Although he knew from before he stepped into this holding cell, he cannot help but sound surprised and a bit excited when he speaks: "You had the child?"

"I did," she admits, stuck between shame and pride. "And I kept her a secret from this place. I was afraid.." She exhales, tears streaking her cheeks. Lantash offers support without thinking, taking her slender hand into his, sandwiching it as she tells the story of how she resigned from the Air Force, from the exploring life she'd lead. Moved and reconciled with her brother, kept their child – _not yours_, Lantash reminds himself, _but Martouf's_ – from everyone she knew, her friends, her colleagues, even her father and Selmak. It grieves Lantash greatly to realize the amount of burden she has carried, never sharing the wonder of her daughter with her fellow SG members.

"But then I couldn't," Samantha says, struggling to tame the tears that are inevitably falling. Lantash is unsure if Pakhet is trying to stop them or merely letting them fall. Composure is long gone. The blonde scientist looks up, expression sore and serious. "She knows things, Lantash. Ellie knows things I couldn't possibly have told her. Things only you could have passed on."

"_She is a Harcesis?_"

Samantha nods, her beauty not disheveled by her state of tears. She sniffles once, then exhales deeply before allowing Pakhet to take over. The transition is smooth, yet the symbiote waits for the body to compose itself before speaking, evidently sharing Samantha's state of distress. It tells Lantash much of Pakhet. His heart bleeds for Sam and the hurt he has caused her indirectly, yet he is reminded of the parental pride and love that seems to radiate the beautiful blonde. He briefly wonders if Ellie looks anything like her mother. It is a human reaction to such news, and Lantash gratefully blames Martouf for his positive influence.

"_You see my cause for return. I wish the Tau'ri no harm. The blending was as enforced on me as Samantha_," Pakhet argues, her stance so different from Samantha. The defiance and controlled arrogance beneath the surface, the carriage of a god. Or self-proclaimed martyr. Either way Lantash admires her treatment of Ba'al, and he is thankful that she has treated Samantha with care and fragility.

"_There is another cause for concern. The Tok'ra know about Ellie_."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

The pain-filled shriek that fills the corridors of the SGC is enough to cause Jack O'Neill to halt. Besides pain, there is an anger and hurt, too, in the screech. His immediate reaction is replaced by the thought that it is an experiment gone wrong in the hands of a perhaps perfectly capable, but now doofus scientist in one of their on-base labs. Merely one of the eternal reminders why he pleasantly dislikes working with civilians. They always find a way to screw it up by their ignoring of regulations and rules set in place.

And that manages to take his mind off, however briefly, the cruel situation fate is playing them. He has been ordered to stand down and not interfere with the Tok'ra's interrogation of Carter, but he finds himself pacing the corridors anyway. The shriek, however, devastates him and alerts him. It is a screech bordering on madness. In all his years as commanding officer on SG-1, he has never heard that kind of pain escaping the lips of one of his officers. Either way, he intuitively knows that it originates from Sam Carter. His heart nearly stops once he reaches that conclusion, knowing that torture isn't part of the Tok'ra interrogation; that Landry forbade. Filled with a renewed anxiety for Carter's well-being, mentally as much as physically, he prays that he'll be able to at least see her if he storms the observation room.

Using his black ops training, he slips into the dim-lit room, making out the silhouettes of Generals Landry and Hammond. Daniel is there, too, all three watching the video feed of the mockery of Sam and this Tok'ra representative. He succumbs to his curiosity, stepping closer to the screen. He can recognize his Sam in those features, but there is also remnant of another. She has stopped screaming, now containing sobs. It aches him to see her this hurt. Anger fuels him, how dare this Goa'uld do this to her? To break her like this? How dare she!

The only thing he appreciated in her retiring was the fact that she wouldn't be putting her life in danger, serving her country. Her outsmarting wits were too valuable to risk like that. Since then he has admitted that he did, if not behave, then think of her as 'the girl' despite her many skills proving otherwise. She isn't soft, just softer than the rest, and he has grown to care for her, even in her absence. Every time he steps through the gate, it's to save Earth, to protect Earth.

To protect her. She might have betrayed them in, raw emotion of betrayal getting in the way, but he has grown to feel honored to have served with her. To have seen that gleam of intelligence in her eyes, to have her obey his orders even though she was unraveling feistily within, to have her defy his orders and _care_. She was the heart of the team. Where Daniel verbalized his dismay, all she had been able to express was her emotions. All he'd had to do was look in those beautiful blue eyes and see if what he was doing was morally right. To think that a damn snake has taken that away from her ignites a rage in him he has long ago tamed.

"Did you know?" Daniel asks, and for a moment, Jack almost thinks it's him he's asking, but then Hammond replies.

"No, I didn't. I'm amazed she could hide it all these years." The general's tone is soft, almost betrayed. "But in hindsight, it does explain everything."

"Yeah," the archeologist says, his voice equally marred with contradicting emotions. On the small screen, the Goa'uld is informing the Tok'ra of Ba'al's schemes, plans, weaknesses, strongholds, a millennium of inside knowledge of one of the rising System Lords. Despite this Jack can only feel disgust and hurt. Taking Carter is a price that can't be paid.

Hammond and Daniel's conversation confuses him, though. As far as he knows, 'she' could only have hidden something from them for the last month or so. And what explains everything?

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Sam believes her words. Pakhet's, that is. But things are unfolding so quickly that it is impossible to keep up. They know about Ellie. It sinks in. The Tok'ra know about Ellie!

"Lantash, you must stop them. She's three years old! She's our daughter!" Although it would have unsettled her in the past to acknowledge that a six-inch-long parasite could be part of her daughter, in the past month she has not been as reluctant to confess things that are impossible.

She can see the emotions and conflict on Alaric's face, only Lantash is feeling them. During this two-hour interrogation, he has remained in charge of the host's body whereas Sam and Pakhet have frequently shifted control as emotions overwhelmed them. Sam doesn't mind, caught up in the rainbow of emotion that the news have brought. This is her first conversation – aside from the ones with Pakhet – she has had in weeks, and the shock of being back, now a possibility, is nerve-wrecking. Because she knows that although they have gotten this far, there are no certainties surrounding her release. Realization is a bitch. Pakhet is doing everything she can to contain the many emotions welling up in Sam, but even her military background cannot hold tears of mixed joy and devastation back.

Maternal instincts rule out any military discipline. Outrageously, she demands to do something about it, but it is all out of the window. "They mustn't," she cries, "She doesn't belong there. She belongs with me."

"_Samantha,_" Lantash says, compassion and fellow hurt in his voice. He has just discovered that there is another piece of Martouf out there. Now the Tok'ra wish to experiment on her, to use her memories or to eliminate the security risk. Surely he understands that Elara has all the knowledge he possessed at the time of conception. "_I will do my best. It is what Martouf would have wanted._"

She looks at him, eyes watery, filled with appreciation and love. She is not in love with Lantash; now she has too many crises to handle, but the imprint of Jolinar remains, aside from the leftover love she felt for Martouf. She has learnt to see beyond the host and thinks of Lantash as a separate being. She doesn't know his host, this Alaric, and therefore it is unlikely that any feelings she has will be acted on. But she likes his company and knows how much he has calmed her during these two hours. She knows why he took the task of debriefing Pakhet. Lantash understands loss.

"Pakhet is a friendly symbiote, Lantash. Never once has she wronged me. She saved my life when I thought it was over! But Elara means more to me than anything I can do here. Certainly you must understand that I am not about to let my daughter, Martouf's daughter – _our _daughter – taken by the Tok'ra because of who her father is!"

**STARGATE SG-1 x**

Hammond has always been open-minded when it comes to the brilliance of Doctor Samantha Carter. Not because of his friendship with her father – although his fondness of her originated from that – but out of respect and the results he saw the three years of active duty. Since she has amazed him with her intelligence and understanding of alien technology in a more subtle manner, but even with his expectation and intention not to be surprised, what his astrophysicist has now revealed has startled him beyond recovery.

She has a daughter. The immediate response is hurt that she has concealed the fact, but then he watches as more is revealed to his disbelief. It is as if the woman who has been working at the SGC science department, liaising between here, Washington and Area 51 is an entirely new person. A mother, a deceiver. A facade hiding her true nature. And to think that it took a Goa'uld to get her to admit it. She has carried a child much like the one SG-1 was searching for for years. A harcesis child. Part of him is in awe by her will to keep her child safe – he has never doubted she'd be a great mother someday – but another part is now putting the pieces of the puzzle of her resignation together. Everyone of her decisions he hasn't understood now explodes in a web of enlightenment. Her willingness to liaise between the Tok'ra and the SGC – explained by her relationship with this Martouf. He remembers all too well the dreadful day and the expression on Samantha's face as she shot and killed Martouf. His symbiote, Lantash, is now interrogating her. He snorts mentally. The irony.

He has always cared for Samantha like he would a niece. Known her since before she could walk. It astounds him, this dalliance with an alien, but then he remembers the softness of Martouf. His composure, his subtleness. Like a father would, Hammond must admit that despite his symbiote, Martouf would have been any in-law's dream. Hammond vaguely remembers the looks of devotion Martouf had sent Samantha. Now he just knows. He cannot pretend to understand; he is too old-fashioned for that, but he knows that Martouf's death hit Sam more than enough. Frankly he'd thought that had been the cause to her resignation. He had waited a week to file it, granting her the chance to regret her decision, but he had not seen the shadow of her, so downheartedly, he had filed the resignation of one of the best officers SGC had ever had.

Despite his authority; despite him being in charge, George does not know what to do. Everything has run amok in these past weeks, making Landry's transition harder than it should've been. Making George's visits more frequent than they should've been. Because despite her resignation, SG-1 does not leave someone behind. Does not sit around when one of their own is taken. Their dedication is truly admirable and Hammond would not have expected any less, despite years of ignoring her and playing hurt by her betrayal. While that bridge is not mended yet, George knows that there will be consequences of today. Right now he doesn't even know who to believe. The Tok'ra have certainly not informed him of their plans to extract Samantha's child. Suspicions of kidnapping. Is that a valid reason? Still, the only representatives on Earth from the Tok'ra are Jacob and Selmak and a female one named Callista.

Does that mean his own friend betrayed his daughter and told the Tok'ra of her child's existence? Hammond finds that hard to believe, but then must admit that Selmak has influenced him and they might not have known what their actions would have of repercussions.

His eyes on the video footage, he hears the sharp intake of breath behind him. Cursing mentally, he turns to see a very pale Colonel Jack O'Neill. The very expression will haunt Hammond. Hurt and surprise don't even begin to describe the utter look of mixed disbelief and devastation on his face.

As if it hadn't been proven by O'Neill's eagerness to risk his life to save or avenge Carter's life, Hammond has always known – or at least suspected – that there be some residual emotions between he and his former second-in-command. He could phantom the repercussions of total trust between a man and a woman, even two disciplinary officers of the Air Force such as O'Neill and Carter, and the next obvious and natural step would be a romantic relationship. It is not uncommon. Neither of them acted on it. Denied it although the room often flowed thickly with it. Attraction, utter trust and something else that only they would be confused by. He sighs; it has been long since he has seen that. Jack refused to have a female member on his team. He only voiced it once, didn't have to, but it was a wordless request to George.

To have resigned broke that trust between them. Hammond is certain that O'Neill didn't see that coming. Now she is back, literarily by his hand, wound reopened, old stitches ripped open and blood flowing. It can end in catastrophe. The looks Jack has sent him over the years whenever he insinuated bringing Sam in on a particularly scientific mission. Now, emotions are crossing the weathered face quicker than interpretation can happen, and Hammond's heart bleeds for his second-in-command. Political problems aside, this will be one tough cookie to deal with.

He sends Jack a meaningful and sorrowful gaze before returning his eyes onto the screen where Sam is literarily falling apart upon hearing the news that her daughter is being taken away from her now where she is back. She has always been protective of children; he specifically remembers the Cassandra incident years back. She refused to leave the girl and only stubbornness and an unhealthy attachment to the child along with an unforeseeable result saved them. She would have died that day with Cassandra if fate hadn't had its way. When he sees her outrageous responses, he only sees a mother willing to do everything for her child's safety.

So far this Pakhet seems trustworthy, but it is debatable and he knows that if the OIA is to be informed, they will deem her a security threat too risky and so will her child be sent to Area 51 for study. Hammond has been surprised to hear that this "resurfaced memory" was bogus and genetic memory from Lantash. That part still confuses him, but as in the past, he is willing to take Sam Carter's worth for it.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

After hours of interrogation, and a lot of convincing on Lantash's part she is sure, she is allowed out of the holding cell, two SFs at her side at all time. And chaperoned by Alaric and Lantash, of course. Pakhet is a bit offended, but seeing as Sam is in control, she is confined to fidget inside their head. Sam can almost feel her anxious tics against her spinal cord, but chooses to ignore it. One would think a thousands-year-old symbiote had better nerves.

_Oh, I had, but then I met you, Samantha! _Pakhet snickers, biting her metaphorical tongue. For the first time in their time together, it is Sam who has to calm the symbiote, something that is not lost on her. With a mental smirk, she leaves their conversation.

Walking like a prisoner in the corridors with designated military numbers, she catches a glimpse of something familiar. Halting and turning her full attention, she sees something she daren't believe.

_Oh no, _Pakhet murmurs ominously.

"Ellie!"

It is a nerve-wrecking scream, emotional too little a word to describe it. Tears have fallen – tears of joy – before Sam can react to the presence of her precious child in the SGC. The child, recognizing her mom even in the odd clothes, breaks free of Jacob's hand, her curiosity more than satisfied at the sight of her missing mother. Like slow-motion film, Sam has fallen to her knees before she realizes it, being hit on impact by the three-year-old. Hugging her tightly as if afraid to let her go, the world around Sam and Elara fade away. Pakhet does a mental somersault at the emotional impact she is receiving, speechless at its magnitude.

The golden dress pools around them, but the SFs, even with their assault riffles pointed at them, do not react to the sudden and wild outburst of emotion. They probably never saw it coming. Sam breathes in the innocent smell of her daughter's curly hair, registering everything as if wanting to hold onto the memory forever. Hope is refueled. She will never let her daughter go, she will remain fighting for her. This is what kept her going in Ba'al's clutches. This is what she imagined when she felt Ba'al's hands on her, the cold blade against her throat. Enraged and overwhelmed, ready to manhandle anybody who dares remove her from her child, she sobs, pulling Ellie into her lap.

Aren't reunions what they do? Refugees reuniting with loved ones? Then why are they so stunned by her action? They heard her confession, they know she has a daughter. Why did they expect her to be an emotional imbecile? She has a Goa'uld in her, but should that make her love for her daughter any vaguer? Why do they expect her not to fight for the sake of her daughter?

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Lantash – or is it Alaric? – gesture to the guards to lower their weapons. She does not move to see his expression at seeing his child for the first time. She can hear running footsteps and then panty breaths arrive, but she doesn't once move from her tight embrace with her daughter, both of them curled up, lost in each other's absence. Ellie doesn't cry, but she cuddles into her mother's lap, against her chest as if afraid to be taken away. Tears sprawling her face, Sam runs her fingers through Ellie's light-brown hair, taking in every bit of detail she thought she would never see again.

And when she finally looks up, minutes after the devastating reunion, the first thing she sees once she lets go of Ellie and her mane, is the eyes of Colonel Jack O'Neill.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

After hearing the enlightening interrogation, Jack lets the analytical team have the tape. Landry allows a two-man SF team to escort Sam and this Pakhet to the other Tok'ra along with Lantash. Annoyance wells up in Jack; they haven't dealt much with the snake of Martouf in the last years, him not contacting them since the incident that killed his host. Carter killed him, as far as Jack remembers. The more he listened to the feed, the more clueless did he feel. He has completely locked himself out of Sam's life. She initiated it, but he hasn't even kept in touch by the phone. Always ignored her with a feeling of hurtfulness whenever he caught a glimpse of her on-base. God, he had been such an idiot.

Her relationship with Martouf hurts. He never even knew; saw the attraction, sure, but never thought she would fall for the snake-headed host. He could blame it on the snake in her head and its residual memories and feelings, but in the end, he is left feeling betrayal and sorely disgusted. Then he remembers, this is Carter. He can never be disgusted with Sam Carter. Disapprove of her actions, sure, even reprimand her on it in the past, but hasn't she always gotten his forgiveness? As the Nox say, _sometimes the young do not always do as they're told_. While he is hurt and averted by her level of intimacy with Martouf, he also has to admit that the strong woman in that cell is more than Major Carter, United States Air Force officer. She is a mother, desperate to see her child. And although he doesn't want to, he can feel her pain. He wants to hate her. He wants to be disgusted with her, but she is Samantha Carter, so automatically, he can't. It's just not in him.

He can be angry that she left; angry that she didn't tell them; hell, even angry that she slept with Martouf and resigned, but ultimately, he forgives her. And that he can be angry with. His inability to be mad at Carter. His own, damn softness towards her.

Conflicted, he nevertheless springs to action when he hears a cry proceeded by the loading of weapons a few corridors away. He jogs towards it, eyeing Teal'c and Daniel on his way, cursing Landry for allowing Pakhet to roam freely, but is hit by the vision of pure innocence once he turns to the corridor in question.

It is a breathtaking moment (at least in his mind). Surrounded by two SFs with pointed weapons and Alaric, Lantash's host, sits Sam, the golden dress fanning out around her, her arms tightly around a smaller person. On the opposite way of the corridor stands Jacob and another woman dressed in the Tok'ra uniform. Once he feels Jack's eyes on him, Jacob shamefully lowers his head, speaking under his breath to the tight-ass woman behind him. She nods sternly, but by then Jack's attention is back on the golden-haired woman and the embrace. The child, hidden by the hug and seemingly not bothered by getting smothered, turns her head gently in his direction, a crescent of her face showing, a pair of innocent blues staring at him thoughtfully. It is not creepy, not omniscient nor scary, but a child's curious eyes not understanding the situation. Her hair is an exotic brown, her skin pale in the lights of the SGC. Despite her situation and the SFs flaring weapons at her, she doesn't seem scared, no; she seems to feel safe in the arms of her mother.

And she is absolutely adorable. Behind him, Teal'c and Daniel catch up, coming to a halt behind him, seeing the very same thing. In any other case, Jack would have teased Sam with that outfit, showing more skin than not, but with Ellie in her grasp, she looks like a mother goddess, even if her divine makeup is smudged by tears of reunion. He is devastated and shocked and all kinds of emotions mar his face, but he can only describe the sight as beautiful. A moment to be painted and immortalized. Then Sam looks up at him hesitantly, seemingly after forever, and stares at him with a completely Goa'uld-less, Carter-expression. His heart beat stops for a moment once he identifies the immediate reaction to seeing him as fear.

Then her expression morphs into a trusting gaze as she slowly rises, steadying the girl as she does so, ending up with her arms clasped together around her, the girl's small arms trustfully placed around her next. Never mind that the dress wrinkles and is putted out of place, but the look of defiance and obedience warms his eyes. He forgets his anger, forgets that Pakhet is in there, forgets that he has been cursing her name for years.

Because what he sees he's only remotely seen once before. Sara, her arms fondly around Charlie's small body. However, never taking his eyes off her and yet seeing her again, he corrects himself. This he has seen before; on missions years passed, utter trust in the blue eyes of his brilliant second-in-command.

* * *

**A/N: **Aaaaaaand, I just decided to write an epilogue. Sorry, guys, not done yet! I hope I did Sam/Martouf/Lantash and Sam/Jack justice. I know that I didn't do all of SG-1's POVs on Ellie and that Sherwood suddenly disappeared, but it just seemed right, you know?

I'd love to hear your reactions to this. Any suggestions to whose POVs I might use in the epilogue – which may end up as a final chapter due to its length. I'll start writing it once I hear from you!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** .. And now, the conclusion :D

I threw in a little parent/grandparent confrontation between Lantash and Jacob about Ellie/Sam. 'thought it'd be fun. Due to Jacob's "betrayal" I couldn't make him as outrageous as I wanted to, but I am pretty satisfied with the result.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. **

Lantash, flabbergasted but remarkably remaining in control, can only watch as the small creature launches itself at Samantha. Only then does he recognize the Tau'ri girl.

She has most of Samantha's features but the eye, skin and hair color of Martouf. He takes pride in the brilliance of her eyes that he happens to glimpse when the girl looks up, uneasy at the SF guards. Lantash makes sure that they lower their weapons once he has seen her frightened expression, but then can only stand by and watch as the family – without Martouf, he must mourningly admit – gather themselves, Samantha holstering the girl in her arms, her tiny legs around Samantha's waist.

So this is Ellie. Elara, as Samantha named her. He starts feeling a sudden attachment to the child and wonders if that can be categorized as fatherly pride. Alaric is quick to assure him, having picked up on the small waves of emotion that he has not been able to conceal.

_You can be proud, Lantash. She is truly beautiful._

Lantash has nothing to add to that comment, but cannot do anything to agree. Elara, named for the planet (almost) of her conception. He has forgotten how frail human life can be in its purest form. Even then, he can recognize the overwhelming attachment, a loyalty that he is certain Samantha feels too, an attachment and loyalty he can only remember sharing with Jolinar. The thought saddens him, because somewhere he has always suspected that he loved Jolinar more than she loved them. Rosha made up for it in her radiating love, but Martouf always tried to assure him that Jolinar merely was more private than him, making it seem as if they loved her more. Personally, Lantash was always content with the smallest of devotion on her part. He had felt gifted around Jolinar, having her near him. Utterly possessive, Martouf had called it. Now Lantash is reminded of both losses, Martouf and Jolinar, both a crucial part of their foursome.

Raw with grief and this new feeling of attachment to a child he has just met, he realizes that even without two of the four, they have accomplished greatness. Maybe not crippling the System Lords, but creating a small miracle. Elara.

It is as if looking at Sheena, Martouf's smaller sister. She is dead now, Martouf having outlived her, but when Lantash and Martouf first visited after their blending, he remembered the small child, a little older than Elara, who shrieked gleefully for her brother and made no protests when he scooped her up. She looked the same. The same natural tan, the cinnamon-colored hair and those crystal blue orbs that render him speechless. In his years with the Tok'ra, he has forgotten the concept of children. After all, no Tok'ra has children. Except for now. He is the honored father of his amazing creature who apparently has inherited his genetic memory. He sees the risk in that but does not acknowledge it; after all, she is a child. Neither she nor her mother is going off-world anytime soon, so bringing her to the base will increase the odds of compromise. It is the Tok'ra who have brought this upon themselves and now he wants to make sure they know it.

Glancing up, he sees that SG-1 have joined the corridor. He nods respectfully to Colonel O'Neill, who takes over, gesturing towards the SFs that they should follow suit. Despite this new attachment, Lantash feels that he has more pressing matters to discuss with Selmak and Callista concerning his own offspring. Therefore he entrusts the colonel with escorting them to other quarters before their time in the conference room with general Hammond. There they will discuss what is to be done, but for now, Lantash can only be sure that Samantha will keep Ellie secure on her person. A smile tucks into place on his face, feeling the pride well up in him.

_You have managed to keep this from me, Lantash_, it comes from Alaric but not accusatory. Just amused by the sudden softness in his temperamental symbiote.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Lantash and Alaric quickly find Jacob and Selmak and Callista and Rhina, Callista and Jacob arguing somewhat loudly in one of the more deserted corridors of the facility. Not for the first time Lantash can feel Alaric pity Rhina for her burdensome symbiote.

"_Jacob, Callista,_" he says as he joins them, obvious disapproval on his face. Both Tok'ra react, stopping their conversation. Only Callista seems comfortable with it, Jacob looks furious.

"_Should we find somewhere more private to discuss this_," Lantash suggests, making certain that they know why he is angry. They nod and soon find an available room where Callista immediately explodes.

"_This wasn't part of the plan!_" she hisses. "_You were not to interfere with our mission._"

"_Bringing the child to the Tok'ra will solve nothing_," Lantash thunderously remarks, his tone sharp. The thought of separating Samantha and Elara borders on insane.

Selmak surfaces. "_Keeping her here will only endanger her. Endanger us_," he points out. "_We have always depended upon secrecy and subterfuge. This defies that!_"

Lantash looks at him with disgust. "_She is a child. Raised as a Tau'ri child, she will tell none of our secrets._"

"_You cannot ensure that,_" Callista says. "_Children are difficult and easily swayed. Temperamentally unstable._"

Lantash swears in Goa'uld. Both Tok'ra rise a brow, but do not comment. Jacob slips into control. "I don't think that Ellie will have a good future in either places.."

"_Samantha has done well in raising her and I am certain that she will continue to do so with the secrecy of the Tok'ra in mind. Imagine the damage to our alliance if we claim custody of Elara now when Samantha is back_," Lantash defends.

"_It does raise a problem, but this child has the memories of Egeria and her offspring. __**You **__can attest to that_," Callista exclaims, clearly blaming Lantash for this problem.

"_By removing her from the Tau'ri, we create the problem. What are the odds of someone gathering intel on her? Only the three of us know this. Am I right when only we from the Tok'ra know of her identity?_" Lantash asks, seeing them nod reluctantly.

"She is my granddaughter, Lantash," Jacob begins, but the symbiote quickly cuts him off, fatherly feelings taking over.

"_Then you should not have created the problem by informing the Tok'ra High Council! Samantha was concealing the fact well, before we –._"

Callista then proceeds to cut off Lantash's rage. "_You knew?_" she asks, appalled.

He looks down briefly, then resumes eye contact. "_I did_," he admits. "_I was a part of Martouf, my former host, and Samantha's relationship. The day Martouf died, killed by Samantha to ensure that the za'tarc programming was not fulfilled, Samantha came to us, telling us of the pregnancy._"

Jacob looks equally astounded and furious. "You impregnated my daughter and left her –!"

"_No, we did not. I offered to unblend from Martouf so they could raise the child together. At the time I had no idea the child would inherit my genetic memory. Sadly, this was disturbed by Martouf's sudden demise. It took another year for me to recover and take a host. I have not been to Earth since. I did not know Martouf had fathered a child._"

"_Yet you concealed this from us_." Callista's voice is sharp and bearing consequences.

"_My and Samantha's relationship was never something the Council should be informed of. I chose to keep the matter private and secret when I heard from Selmak that Samantha had resigned from Stargate Command._"

"_I see,_" she says, betraying no emotion. She spins around, watching Jacob struggle with control. "_Once Pakhet has been extracted I will speak to Samantha of this. Perhaps it would be for the better if the child were to remain amongst the Tau'ri._" Something flashes in her eyes although not the typically Goa'uld trick. "_Our bases are hardly equipped for a venturing child_."

Had Lantash known her better, or dared to, he would have thought she smirked fondly at the statement. "_Now, extracting Pakhet will be difficult. How old did you say she was?_"

"Three millennia at least. She has only recently taken voluntary hosts, but she is weakened...," Lantash begins, with that ending the strained conversation. He informs Callista of Pakhet and her intel, knowing that Callista is here on Garshaw's behalf. Once they are done, she goes to contact the Tok'ra base for the equipment, leaving Selmak and Lantash alone.

"_I apologize for my foolishness, Lantash,_" the older symbiote says. The calm demeanor reminds Lantash more of Saroosh than Jacob. "_I acted upon what my instincts told me of a harcesis child. Never before as there been a Tok'ra child. I allowed myself to ignore my host's feelings on the matter. And I feel the need to apologize to you as well. Elara is, at some extent, yours. It saddens me that Martouf is not here to see her._"

"_Me, too, Selmak. I forgive you. You know my possessiveness when it comes to matters of the heart_," he says.

Selmak chuckles lightly. "_Yes, I remember you and Jolinar not always communicating because of that. I am glad to see these feelings revisited when it comes to Elara. However, she is no child of Jolinar._" His face darkens with severity as he speaks.

"_I assure you, my feelings towards Elara and Samantha are not tainted by relation to Jolinar. Martouf and I loved Samantha despite her hosting of Jolinar. We adored her fierceness, her compassion. Our love continue even now._"

"_Jacob is not happy about your keeping the relationship a secret. I think he is merely dismayed that he was not informed; and has missed another birth of a grandchild_," Selmak informs him deeply.

Lantash nods. "_Even then, I am sorry_."

Jacob retakes control of his body, "Do not expect me to accept this lightly, Lantash. Even if Martouf is gone, I still carry great responsibility for my daughter. What you didn't I don't appreciate."

Not quite getting the message but understanding the protectiveness and where it comes from, he nods deeply, returning the gesture. "_Then tell Selmak that I will not forgive his betrayal, even this small one. Elara is my daughter and I share your concerns towards her._"

They share a look of understanding, both aware that they have a long way to go before their friendship recovers. The heated exchange of words forgotten, they proceed to follow Callista to the embarkation room to say their goodbyes before rejoining Samantha, Pakhet, SG-1, Generals Landry and Hammond and, of course, Ellie.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Samantha's breath and heartbeat steady as she is reunited with her child. Pakhet notices this, fascinated but afraid to step too far, retreating to the back of their minds. Unlike her siblings, she does not wish to utilize such a beacon of Tok'ra knowledge. No, she is tired of the constant fighting and thirst for power. Samantha's world intrigues her greatly, but in the end, she knows what she must done now where she has relayed her knowledge – the important one, to be used by the Tok'ra in the fight against her terrible brethren – and only few tasks remain. Yet she studies the way her young host is with this child, a loyalty and devotion completely deprived of divinity, yet unwavering. The emotions Sam feels towards this simple, destructible child is unlike anything she has felt from former hosts. Make that hostesses; Ba'al has always insisted she take female hosts. Ah, the freedom from Ba'al. It is utterly liberating and she will enjoy every second of it.

Adored by everyone, Ellie, as she is named, has fallen asleep against Sam's chest, her mother's arms around her, an awkward position in the standard-issue chair, but Pakhet is numbing the pain in her side, treasuring the moment as much as Samantha is.

Several people she identifies by the use of Samantha's memories enter the long room, sitting or standing near the long wooden table. They glance their way, some daring to much, others quickly redirecting their eyes away from the protective mother. Pakhet chuckles mentally, understanding their fear if not their reluctance to anger Samantha. She is certainly a capable fighter despite being a scientist.

Pakhet glances at their chaperon. The man who holds Samantha's trust, although not as unwaveringly as in the past. She has peeked in Samantha's memories for answers and now knows the extent of damage done between them. This Jack O'Neill has betrayed her life, hurt her repeatedly, yet Samantha still seeks his approval and his friendship. Digging deeper, Pakhet uncovers the web of complexity that define Tau'ri relationships. Unbiased or not, Pakhet determines that he is handsome and Samantha has already deemed him trustworthy. He is looking at them like he isn't sure whether he wants to attack or protect them fiercely against anything that dares come at them. Pakhet nudges Sam to send him a thankful look. The way she is cradling Elara makes her forget about the very important meeting.

The Tok'ra representatives step through the door, and although they still are one man short, so the meeting can not fully start, Pakhet watches them with equal intrigue and a passionating rage. In truth, she acts on Samantha's instincts. This Lantash, what she feels for him is a more subdued form of what she feels towards the colonel. A gratitude and shared understanding. A mutual devotion. He is the father of her child. Confused by this, Pakhet can only nudge persistently to Sam, immaturely teasing her that she has many options.

_Pakhet! _she exclaims in mock offense.

_Still_, Pakhet points out. _You have two men who are willing to take your word as liquid gold and prosecute your cause with dexterity. It seems to me that loyalty is not the problem._

_Loyalty is exactly the problem_, Samantha remarks, humming a nursery rhyme. _I didn't tell that about Ellie; now they know only because I don't want her taken away. Why should they then trust me now?_

Pakhet hears her words and feels the tugging sadness. _You have a complicated life, Samantha Carter_.

Then the summit begins and Pakhet must tune in to listen to every word.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

"_Samantha?_" Lantash's soft voice is different from Martouf's because of the different vocal chords, but when he whispers her name, she still gets the chills from that night, still feels attached._ "I apologize if I intrude, but I need to speak with you privately. Well, both of you._"

They have been assigned quarters, her and Ellie, seeing as she will not let go off her daughter even if the Tok'ra have assured her they will not take her daughter away. Sam still feels mad at her father for royally screwing up by running to the Tok'ra with information of Ellie's existence. It seems very out of character and that just makes the blow even harder, the betrayal grander. Like most times, she was right, this time in assuming that her father shouldn't know about Ellie.

She lets Lantash and Alaric in, directing them into the temporary quarters. At least she has gotten a chance to change out of that horrid dress and into base BDUs. With an offended imprint from Pakhet, she is left alone with them. That seems so wrong to form a sentence like that. She hasn't been alone for a very long time.

"Of course. Come in," she says friendly. She sees the way he eyes the sleeping form of Ellie. She is curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. "I thought you might visit."

A ghostly version of Martouf's smile meets her. "_That sounds comforting._"

And awkwardness that wasn't present during the interrogation rises between them. She is not even sure how she feels about Lantash now; without Martouf he is still a version of her love, but this confuses her, especially with Pakhet in her head and remnants of Jolinar still here –.

"_Calm down, Samantha,_" he says and for a second, she nearly thinks it is Pakhet but the symbiote has cowardly retreated to her private corner of her brain. The idea gives her the chills.

Her hurt, blue eyes meet his and she takes a sharp breath. Slowly and hesitantly, he pulls her into a hug. Martouf told her long ago that touches are not common among the Tok'ra, despite their open-door policies. Only among mates are touches so intimately noted, like caressing words. Still, it feels nice, knowing that Lantash has taken the initiative on something which confused him at first. His tactlessness has faded in the last couple of years.

"I never gave my condolences," she suddenly hiccups, staring into the green orbs, so different from Martouf's yet carrying a familiarity in them that can only be due to Lantash.

"_Neither did I_," Lantash says once he lets go of her. "_I never blamed you, Samantha. You gave Martouf a worthy death. It should be I giving my condolences, I who asked for your forgiveness. If I had detected the programming and been able to prevent it..._"

"Oh, Lantash," Sam says, realizing their mutual hurt. "I never blamed you. Seeing you alive, seeing the remnants of Martouf.." She sniffles very unladylike, "I was so glad. Here I thought all of Martouf was, well, her." She points at Ellie.

"_You have done good taking care of her. I saw her love for you, and Alaric assured me that Martouf would have been proud. I must admit, sometimes my hosts are less clueless than they appear._"

Sam laughs throatily, her voice still raw from the tears. "That might be the case." Then, feeling inclined to say it, she spurts: "I love you, Lantash. Not only because I loved Martouf."

She wants to say more, wants to describe exactly how she feels, all the conversations and drabbles she has had with Pakhet, but Lantash nods Alaric's head in understanding. "_And I you, Samantha. Never doubt that any feelings were due to Jolinar's imprint on you. Both I and Martouf, separately and collectively, loved you for yourself_."

He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and Sam leans into the touch. The warmth and comfort, naked from any ulterior motives, it is something she has not had in a long time. After seemingly hours, they free each other of themselves, understanding that it can never be more. For it to be more, it would taint the original feelings and Lantash seems to, however painfully, understand that. Standing on her toes, she places a light kiss on Alaric's lips, feeling silly but knowing that it is a gesture appreciated.

Lantash waits in silence before speaking, not wanting to compromise their new level of understanding. "_There are the matters of Pakhet. You must know that they will not allow you to have a symbiote in you and continue your life._"

Sam lets Pakhet take over, the transition smooth and still allowing her to watch over and interject if needed. "_I am aware, Lantash. I have told you all I know of Ba'al's plans and weaknesses. The rest I plan to leave available. I am old and tired of fighting. My wish was to see Ba'al destroyed but after my attempt it seems unlikely that I will have another go at it, as the Tau'ri say. With my knowledge the Tok'ra, however, will be able to bring him to his knees._"  
"_I am surprised that you do not wish to be the one to do that. I mean, you've had the opportunity for years, decades even. Why now?_" he asks curiously.

Pakhet smiles faintly, her wisdom heavy on her shoulders. "_Even I am a coward. I have accompanied Ba'al for a thousand years. That are more sunrises than any human in the galaxy, hosts or not. I have to admit that I felt a certain attachment. Cowardice is why Goa'uld hide behind the masks of gods, Lantash. Even my sister Egeria took her time._"

Lantash's eyes widen, and Sam can feel her mental heart race – her physical one is being slowed down by Pakhet. "_You knew Egeria?_"

Sam can feel Pakhet shake her head. "_For the most, she did not know of my existence. We were of the same queen, yes, obtained the same memories but if I could only claim to have done half the things my sister succeeded in, I would have been proud to rebel from Ba'al much sooner. No, Egeria is a level we others can only dream of reaching._"

Sam, astounded at this new information, is fidgeting. If Pakhet and Egeria were spawned from the same Goa'uld queen, this is the first evidence of how the original Goa'uld system started. What Pakhet couldn't tell! As a scientist, this excited her, but she felt Pakhet push her back. "_You are of Egeria's lineage, I presume?_"

Lantash nods. Sam didn't know that, but then again, he always focused on the fact that not all Tok'ra were of Egeria's line, never who were. Pakhet seems content with these news. "_Then the line will live on in you and Elara. I imagine Egeria's gentler nature is the one Elara has inherited. Fear not, Lantash._"

He looks at her with an awe Sam has never seen before, and it is confusing because she has just been Sam and Lantash, now her symbiote is basically claiming to be blood of the Tok'ra!

"_You unnerve Samantha, Lantash, with your apparent worship. I need none. I merely tell you this so it will help you help Samantha move on._"

Wait, move on?, Sam asks her symbiote.

"_Move on?_" Lantash questions, as confused as Sam feels. She is almost glad to see him being just as out of the loop as her.

"_Yes,_" Pakhet says, and then her final act becomes clear to Sam mere moments before she is overwhelmed by thousands of years of memories. Pakhet's consciousness disappears in the midst of imprints, hosts and memories. Dizzy, Sam falls into Lantash's arms, ill and clutching her head, nearly biting her tongue off not to scream in agony. All what Pakhet has ever kept from her – years of suppressing hosts, of plotting against other Goa'uld with Ba'al, of intimate knowledge of everything the Goa'uld represents. Impressions, expressions, colors, eras, deceptions, blood, emotions, rage, love – it all seeps through, un-chording to the point of true incomprehension. And Sam can only do one thing as the memories overpower her, stunning her momentarily – retch.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

A little over a month pass, and she notices how Sam gets sick but recovers after her encounter with the symbiote and its sacrifice. Soon the house on Pine Drive in Colfax is filled with new guests, all carrying brightly wrapped gifts for the birthday girl, some visiting for the first time since the tragic incident, seemingly forgotten and replaced by a renewed happiness on everyone's faces. Andy and Bree attend the barbeque and she is thankful that the yard is large enough for all the new people around them. The weather is wonderful, the sun shining brightly and long into the evening before it slowly goes to bed in the horizon.

Most guests arrive in the afternoon, having assured to not be off-world and remarkably all invited manage to get there, albeit Mark and his troops arrive a little too late but make up for it once Mark starts showing his barbequing skills and Liz and Davy start a round of hide-and-seek that basically everyone joins in. Soon the backyard is buzzing with life and grown-ups trying to hide behind doors and swing-sets. The sight is so innocently childish that Sam starts grinning before a certain colonel attack her from behind, tickling her at her sides so she bursts into snorts of laughter and surprise. Reprimanding him because she now can, she is interrupted when Bree gets a hold of some of said bright wrapping paper, sending it flying in small pieces across the green lawn at the meeting with Bree's fierce jaws and eager playfulness. The children giggle, even Cassandra joining in, but then they are instructed to collect the chewed pieces of wrapping paper, and Cassie organizes a hunt that soon leaves the lawn relatively free of paper.

Bree scowls, resorting to playing with a rubber ball that the children find on the verandah while the grown-ups chat about unimportant things around the grill. Jack and Mark discuss grilling techniques while Julie, thankful at a day-off, involves a helplessly disarmed Teal'c in a debate of social heritage, to which both Andy and Daniel try to help him with, while Sam and Janet set the tables over some girly chat. Cheerful atmosphere is set, childish giggles filling the air with the occasional bark from Bree, chitchat from the grown-ups never loud enough to deafen the kids.

"So, I hear you're considering moving?" Janet says casually to her friend. They're both beaming in their off-work clothes, the weather showing their best features.

"Maybe," Sam replies, carrying the glasses. "I mean, this place is too big for us and soon Ellie is gonna start school, so.."

"School? You're cleared to do that? Wonderful, Sam, congratulations!" the doctor exclaims, smiling as she puts the forks down on the correct side of the plates.

"Yeah, and as much as I like the proximity to San Diego and Mark, it's getting difficult traveling between states to work," she complains, exhausted at the memory.

"I can imagine," the softspoken, temperamental doctor relates. "So, near Colorado Springs?" she suggests.

"I don't know," Sam relies, but Janet doesn't miss the look she sends Colonel O'Neill. It is hidden, subtle, but the doctor has known the blonde for too long to miss or misinterpret it. "It is still in its earliest stages. I mean, God, I haven't even spoken to a realtor yet! Besides, Ellie is only turning four.."

"And you've been keeping her from us for three years, Sam! Don't think I'll be content with seeing her on the holidays!" the doctor grins, her tone nevertheless serious and light all the same.

Once the barbequed meat is done and the salads and bowls with roasted potatoes and grilled bell pepper putted on the table along with the garlic bread, the partygoers sit down and begin eating. Cassie is the one to keep control of the kids table, having chosen the task herself, so the grownups can talk without the constant interruption of eager and loud kids. Bree manages to sneak a few bits of meat into her mouth without raising the attention of her owner.

Once they're done and the table is cleared of food, they move inside, camping out in front of the television, the kids settled in a pile against Sam and Janet respectively. Stuck with kids on both sides, Sam cannot get another blanket but she shivers, feeling cold. Luckily Jack is soon there, adding another blanket to her shoulders but soon slipping in between her and the couch's back, using himself as a human blanket. Soon Sam cuddles against her former C.O., nobody else noticing, too caught up in the movies or the children who're dozing off. Daniel and Julie have started a board-game, both having seen this particular movie too many times, Teal'c studying them curiously, his attention divided between the game and the movie, a bowl of popcorn in his grip, matching the one on the table and the empty one a semi-awake Cassie has in her possession.

But when Jack and Sam rise, excusing themselves for the kitchen, Ellie watches as their hands clasp together innocently, the gazes they send each other. She knows that she will never have a proper life with her biological parents, but she can only excite herself with the thought of Jack becoming her stepfather. After all, the future is bound to be difficult. Then she feels her eyelids go heavy and the movie fading out, Bree's muzzle buried in her tiny lap, her snout against Ellie's knee.

* * *

**A/N: **It's now 3 AM and this story is done. I know the ending is very suspenseless, but I thought it was much like the beginning, so.. Tell me if I forgot someone at her birthday party. After hours of calculating when Ellie was conceived, I made her birthday in January/February, making the return of Sam and Pakhet's sacrifice around Christmas. This chapter turned out very shippy, but I did try multishipping as someone out there was kind to remind me.

Unfortunately, it will be a little while until I can continue this due to two pressing exams. Danish and physics. God, I just don't get half of it, but that's what you always hear those arrogant know-it-all asses say, right, and then they end up getting an A despite having proclaimed that they're no good? I certainly hope so.

The next installation, far shorter, will be called **Changing Circumstances**, the second part of "Seize the Orbit". It'll be emotional, it'll be about Sam/Ellie – and I'll throw you a bone: Jack. Don't expect it to get a happy ending, though, but watch out for it. Gosh, even I am excited.

_Feel free to send all your love this way. I mean, er, … well, the damn button is right there anyway, right? WHAT DID YOU LOVE? STORY/PLOT-WISE AND WRITING-WISE? WHAT DID YOU HATE BEYOND REASON? PLACE FOR IMPROVING?_

–_Lea, June 14, 2012 _


End file.
